Growing up a shy individual enhanced my skills to evaluate the surroundings in my environment. I’d always rather sit and stare, sorting through the unique facets of Mother Nature. Always I’d rather be alone, instead of share in the festivities with others. Always I’d rather keep to myself, and observe my surroundings in order to find out what transpires in the world that I am trapped in. Are the once shy little girls ever able to blossom and become leaders? Are the once beautifully colored leaves able to be granted a new beginning every spring? If so, then why couldn’t I take the journey of a leaf, let the colors of the wind guide my way, and allow me to blossom into the person I am today.

Back in elementary school, my favorite time of the day was recess. I’d sit on the swings making detailed observations, particularly during the autumn months. The scenic purity was such as a watercolor painting, each gust of wind added pristine beauty. As the fall months passed, I realized more and more leaves fall to the ground to be with the others, yet I never failed to notice the lone leaf left behind. The lone leaf that maybe hasn’t had a chance to experience being a leader. The lone leaf that hasn’t had a chance to meet someone new, the lone leaf that chose to get by with its silence and serenity.

As the fall months go on, the leaf begins to crimp, and the children around me continue to play. I watch the leaf as I sit there, staring, squinting my eyes at the sight of the unchanging cycle taking place each and every day. I watch the leaf as other kids run around playing soccer. Maybe the tumult of them running around will cause the leaf to fall? Maybe the laughing and frolicking will cause the leaf to fall? Or maybe I could cause the leaf to fall.

Day after day, the leaf lingers on the thin finger-like branch of the brittle oak tree. On this day, instead of watching the leaf from afar, I decide to reside under the tree. I glance up at the leaf, my back against the rough tree trunk. The yarn of my sweater pulls against the brittleness of the bark. Peering up, the leaf is now dull and colored brown, no longer obtaining its short-lived beauty, no longer obtaining elegant colors, no longer are other leaves by its side. So then, I witness the leaf slowly detaching itself from the limb of the tree, my eyes following the swaying of the leaf as it slowly pauses while elegantly descending, landing onto my sweater. A smirk emerges from my sandpaper-like chapped lips. Admiring the leaf, a gust of wind sent the other leaves away from the tree. Yet, the lone leaf lingered, intertwined like a thread in my sweater. I plucked the leaf from my sweater, stood up, and brushed the dirt off of my jeans and held it between my index finger and my thumb. I closed my eyes and counted out loud to three. One, Two, Three, my fingers unlatched the leaf allowing it to dance in the wind and join with the other leaves. I led the way.

I watched the leaf get carried away in the waves of the wind, allowing it to introduce itself, and make new acquaintances. Enabled to spree with the others, the leaf introduced its unique qualities, now causing the lone leaf to become a leader leaf. This sight caused me to block out the bell ringing, indicating recess had ended. I took one step backward, my toe touching first, then planting my heel. I smiled as I turned around, running inside to catch up with the others until I saw the new girl sitting alone reading a book. Hi, I’m Sydney! And there another leader leaf was created.