Like a Leaf in the Wind

“You know, autumn has always been my favorite season.”

The gentle, quiet voice of an old man almost disappears into the whisper of the wind, while a pair of curious young eyes watch him. With his great-grandson in his arms, he watches the gentle ripples moving across the lake. Leaves drift down from the trees around them, scattering over the old wooden park bench they're sitting on. Even though his old bones ache a little, he tries to sit perfectly still and keep the bundled-up baby in his arms calm. Knowing that words are soothing to babies, he continues to speak slowly and thoughtfully.

“Autumn is like a beautiful ending and the promise of a new beginning. A bit like you and me.”

His gaze now lingers on the child’s face, where he sees everything that once filled his own children's eyes — curiosity, wonder, and trust.

“Like autumn, my time here will soon come to an end.”

He feels the weight of those words on his tongue - and yet speaking them brings a strange sense of relief and peace. In the past, he wouldn’t have dared to say them aloud, as if naming death could summon it.

Gently, he brushes back the corner of the blanket that had slipped over the baby's chin.

“And you,” he whispers with a bright smile, “you are like spring itself — full of time, possibilities, and unknown moments awaiting for you." Scarcely perceptible, a touch of melancholy mingled with his smile.

“I really wish I could watch you grow up and see the person you’ll become.”

For a few more minutes, his eyes rest on the baby until his gaze wanders across the lake. Walking alongside my children and grandchildren for part of their journey has been the greatest gift of my life. His smile widens again. And how different they all turned out! He chuckles, and his voice carries warmth and pride as he basks in his memories. Really - completely different. Just like these leaves around us. He picks one up that had landed beside him on the bench. “Not a single one looks or falls quite the same way. That’s life — every moment, every person, every living thing - all unique, yet all connected.” He's no longer speaking to the baby, but rather to himself.

With the next gust of wind, he lets the leaf slip from his fingers. He watches it dance, tumble and sink. “Like a leaf in the wind,” he whispers, then turns his eyes back to the baby, who smiles at him. Softly, he taps the child’s tiny nose. “I hope you’ll find your own path in life, and that you won’t let the wishes and expectations of others sway you too much.” He gazes at the colorful blanket wrapped around the baby. "My wife, for instance, wouldn't have liked this blanket... but your mother loves it." He shrugs briefly and looks around before continuing “What’s beautiful or ugly… what’s right or wrong… what you’ll achieve or where you’ll fail… As long as your choices and actions don’t harm anyone, they’ll be the right ones.” As if understanding every word, the baby stays perfectly still, gazing up at the face above — a face shaped by all the years it had seen.

The old man was about to continue when his eyes caught a swan gliding down onto the lake, circling slowly in the sunlight. He watched, entranced, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw something familiar.

“You know, one of my daughters left us far too early.” A deep sorrow crosses the old man’s face. “That swan reminds me of her. She was just as graceful, gentle, and strong. She always tried to make the best of every moment — to feel life with all her heart. Everyone loved her and longed for a piece of her light. And she gave it freely. She offered her hand to anyone who needed help… But in the end, it broke her, because she couldn’t save everyone.”

He falls silent. Sometimes the pain returns — softer now, like a passing breeze. He has learned not to chase those feelings and memories away. Just to greet them kindly when they come by. “She couldn’t make sense of this world. Not only did we speak often, but we also despaired together over the way the world was evolving — how people treat one another, how they knowingly harm other living beings, and how they destroy nature, which is, after all, our shared home."

Even after all these years, he had found no answer. Maybe there was none. A tear slips unnoticed down his cheek. “She was a good soul — too pure for the cruelties of this world.”

After taking some deep breaths, he continues, “And after she was gone... it was as if one of the brightest stars had gone out forever.” He stops speaking again and wanders silently through his memories. Eventually, he arrives at the faces of all the people who had carried him through the worst of times. Maybe, he thought, that’s what we’re meant to learn — to love the world anyway. Even when it hurts and disappoints us.

The baby’s delighted giggles pulled him gently back into the present. The old man bends down and presses a featherlight kiss on the child’s forehead. “Love, my little one, is a double-edged sword. But it’s the only thing that can save this world of yours.”

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Hello everyone!

It’s been quite some time since I last posted something here, but some things will probably never change when it comes to my writing: I originally wrote this story in German and translated it into English for practice. And, as always, my stories are deeply connected to my own emotions and experiences.

I wrote this piece shortly after losing two close family members last year around this time. Writing has always helped me process difficult thoughts and emotions, and this story became my way of holding on to some of the things they taught me and sharing them with others. I would like to sincerely thank everyone who takes the time to read it - and especially those who leave corrections or feedback.