Falling leaves

A late Autumn afternoon saw Mei’s hand held in her mother’s. Leaves were blowing, and all around Mei sensed the wind whispering to the trees.
Mei and her mother walked up and over the three wooded hillocks that lay along the path to Grandfather Mew’s cottage. They stopped at the top of the third rise, where the trees ended, and gazed down the gentle slope. Below them stirred a field of wild grass and, beyond that, was grandfather Mew’s cottage. Smoke was rising from the chimney. Grey smoke against grey sky.
The grass was heavy with rain, and Mei’ legs were soaked by the time they had reached the oak that watched over the grass. The oak was very old. Perhaps as old as Grandfather Mew, or even older. During the summer, Mei would lie under its shade, in the centre of the field, and gaze into the green branches above. And the tree would smile in the sun. Smile at the innocent joy of a young girl. And smile with Knowledge and Wisdom. Yet now the oak was all but bare. Thick branches stretching strong against the coming winter. Mei thought back to a previous Autumn. She had asked Grandfather Mew why the oak was losing his leaves. Was it because he was dying? Grandfather Mew had replied that the wise oak was not yet ready to die. True, his leaves were lying lifeless around his great frame, yet they had died such that he might live. The old oak was prepared for the approach of the cold. At that time, Mei had not really understood her Grandfather’s words and had run through the grass to embrace the gnarled trunk in her small arms. She had pressed her head to the old bark and shut her eyes. Then she had felt the life force of the oak. Strong. Upright. Deep within the tree. ‘No’ she had thought. ‘The old oak is not dead. He is only sleeping’.
Mei and her mother passed the oak and walked the last two hundred yards to the cottage door.
Inside, the cottage was warm and still. Mei and her mother entered the small bedroom and found Grandfather Mew sat quietly in his favorite chair. He rose to greet his daughter and grandchild.
‘My child’ grandfather Mew spoke to his granddaughter
‘Warm yourself by the fire for a while’
‘But grandfather’ Mei protested ‘I want to stay here, with you’
‘Do not worry little one. I shall be here when you return. Let me speak with your mother a little.’
He watched Mei walk sadly from the room. Then his eyes turned to his worried daughter.
‘I have not left yet’ he whispered, as she collapsed into his old, strong arms.

Mei sat by the fire and stared as the flames licked the wood.
‘Mei, Mei, Mei’ the flames hissed.
‘Come play, play, play’
‘Pay no heed to the flames,’ her grandfather had told her once. ‘Though they know you and entice with rhyme and beauty, your will is strong and they cannot harm you. Pay them no heed.’ Mei would often sit by the fire for hours and listen to the song of the flames. And yes, there was a strange beauty in the song. Beautiful and enchanting. But today, Mei was not listening and her thoughts were elsewhere. For today, Grandfather Mew had sent for his family, to bid them farewell.

Mei returned to her grandfathers bedroom. Grandfather Mew sat in his chair and Mei’s mother stood by his side, her face lowered to the floor.
‘Dear Mei. You look so sad. You should not be so.’ His voice was soft yet strong, like water. His eyes were kind and deep, like the sky above the clouds. And his soul was bright, like a mirror.
‘Go to the window, tell me what you see’
Mei stood by the glass and looked toward the field.
‘The sky is grey, grandfather. The wind is cold and bitter. Rain is coming over the hills. And the grass is dancing. That is what I see, grandfather.’
‘Little Mei. Your voice I shall truly miss... Now, tell me what you really see.’
Mei stood at the window and stared.
‘I see the old oak standing guard over his field of grass. He stands strong and tall.’ Mei’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke
‘His branches are empty now, the last leaves are flying from his arms.’
Grandfather Mew nodded and smiled. As Mei turned from the window and ran to his side, the Old sage, still smiling, breathed out quietly and closed his eyes for the last time.