Have you ever noticed that some of the leaves let go more easily than the others?
Some fall while they are still green. The sun comes pouring through the branches, the wind tugs, beckoning gently, and they flutter down onto still-green grass.
Some hold on for the cooler air, the richer colors, the brisker winds.
And some...well, some curl and turn brown, hold on into the dead of winter. The below freezing winds howl, the snow and ice blast at them and yet they cling.
Don't they know that old, shriveled, lifeless leaves are much less becoming than those that simply let go? The ones that let go are the ones that get jumped in, crunched by the preschooler's shoes. If they would just let go they would be the heat and life of bonfire and the beauty of the elementary school artwork.
Don't I know this?
That letting go is simply the gateway to a new purpose?
Which one are you?
