The Dancing Leaves and the Twitchy Tail

The afternoon sky over Lake Stevens was soft and gray, like a cozy blanket made of mist. Inside the warm house, little Shaurya sat on the rug with his wooden blocks. Clack, clack went the blocks. Clack, clack, tap. Shaurya smiled his big, bright smile. He looked up at the tall glass window.

Outside, the gentle wind was waking up. The wind said, whoosh. Softly, slowly, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

Shaurya pointed his tiny finger at the window. Look, Baba! Look, Mamma!

Baba knelt down on the rug beside Shaurya. Baba had kind, warm eyes and a happy smile. Listen, Shaurya, Baba whispered playfully. Listen to the wind. Whoosh, whoosh. What is the wind doing outside?

Mamma came over with Shaurya’s little blue jacket and soft yellow socks. Mamma’s voice was as sweet as a song. Mamma said, The wind is inviting us to play, Shona. Let us go see the pretty autumn leaves.

In went one little foot. Slip! In went the other little foot. Slide! On went the cozy blue jacket. Zip, zip, zip! Shaurya was ready. Baba took one of Shaurya’s hands. Mamma took the other. Step, step, step went Shaurya’s little feet, walking out onto the wooden deck.

The air was fresh and cool. It smelled of wet earth, clean cedar trees, and the big lake nearby. High above, the green cedar trees stood tall and still. But near the yard stood a big maple tree, and its leaves were not green anymore. They were bright, bright yellow, and warm, warm red, and deep, cozy orange.

Then, the breeze blew again. Whoosh! Went the gentle wind. Whoosh, whoosh!

Look, Shaurya, Mamma said, pointing up into the branches. Look at the leaves dance!

One big yellow leaf let go of its branch. It began to fall. It did not drop fast like a heavy stone. No, no. It floated. It drifted to the left. Swish. It drifted to the right. Sway. Down, down, down it danced through the cool air. Flutter, flutter, flutter, all the way down until it landed softly on the wooden deck. Plop.

Shaurya laughed. Ah, ah! He bent his knees and crouched low. His little fingers reached out to touch the yellow leaf. It was wide, like a little hand with five points. It felt cool and smooth on one side, and bumpy with tiny veins on the other.

Mamma sat on the deck next to Shaurya. That is a leaf, Shaurya, she said softly. In Bengali, we call a leaf pata. Can you say pata?

Shaurya patted the leaf with his open palm. Pat, pat, pat. Pata! He giggled.

Another gust of wind danced through the garden. Whoosh! This time, three leaves fell at once. One was bright red, like a juicy strawberry. One was orange, like a sweet mango. And one was golden brown, like a warm piece of toast. Flutter, flutter, down they came. Swish, swish, plop!

Shaurya watched them fall. His dark eyes were wide and curious. Baba picked up the red leaf and held it gently in his hand. Look at this red leaf, Shaurya, Baba said. It is dry. Listen to what it says when Baba squeezes it very gently. Crinkle, crunch! Crinkle, crunch!

Shaurya reached out and squeezed the dry brown leaf with his little fingers. Crunch! Went the leaf. Shaurya beamed. Crunch, crunch, crunch! Such a funny, happy sound.

Then, Baba picked up a leaf that was still wet from the morning mist. This leaf is soft and smooth, Baba showed him. No crunch! Just soft, soft, slip.

Shaurya rubbed the soft leaf between his fingers. Smooth and cool. Crunch and smooth. Yellow and red. Pata, pata, pata!

Just then, Shaurya heard a tiny sound near the cedar fence. Scritch, scratch. Scritch, scratch. Tip-tap, tip-tap.

Shaurya turned his head quickly. What was making that little scritch-scratch sound?

There, sitting on the wooden rail of the fence, was a tiny creature. It was a little gray squirrel! The squirrel was no bigger than Baba’s two hands put together. It had soft gray fur, bright black button eyes, and tiny little paws.

And oh, what a tail it had! The squirrel’s tail was big and fluffy, like a soft feather duster. As the squirrel sat on the fence, its tail went twitch, twitch, twitch. Up and down, twitch, twitch, twitch.

Shaurya’s mouth made a little round O of wonder. Look! Shaurya whispered, pointing his finger.

Shh, whispered Mamma with a gentle smile. Look at our little friend. He is busy today.

The little squirrel held something tiny and brown in its front paws. It was a little pine seed from the tall cedar tree. The squirrel held the seed close to its nose. Nibble, nibble, nibble went its tiny teeth. Fast, fast, fast! Nibble, nibble, nibble.

Shaurya leaned forward just a tiny bit. The squirrel stopped nibbling. It looked right at Shaurya with its shiny dark eyes. The squirrel tilted its head to the left. Shaurya tilted his head to the left. The squirrel tilted its head to the right. Shaurya tilted his head to the right.

Then, the squirrel gave its big, fluffy tail three quick twitches. Twitch, twitch, twitch!

Shaurya wiggled his little shoulders. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle! He laughed a quiet, happy baby laugh.

The squirrel gave one little squeak, turned around, and scampered along the top of the fence. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter went its tiny claws. Up the trunk of the big cedar tree it ran, zooming up, up, up into the green branches until it peeked down from high above.

Bye-bye, little squirrel, Baba waved. Bye-bye, busy tail.

Shaurya waved his hand open and shut. Bye-bye! Bye-bye!

The afternoon light was beginning to change now. The gray mist over Lake Stevens was turning a soft, sleepy lavender. The wind stopped blowing. It went from whoosh to a very quiet hush. The leaves on the maple tree rested quietly on their branches. The leaves on the ground lay still and cozy, like a colorful carpet of red and yellow.

Mamma picked Shaurya up into her arms and pressed a warm kiss to his soft cheek. Time to go inside, Shona, Mamma whispered. The little squirrel is going to sleep in his cozy nest, and the dancing leaves are going to sleep on the ground.

Baba opened the door, and they walked back into the warm, bright house. Off went the little blue jacket. Zip, zip, down. Off went the little yellow socks. Baba rubbed Shaurya’s little feet with his warm hands to make them toasty.

In the kitchen, a gentle steam rose from a warm yellow bowl. Mamma had made soft, warm khichuri with yellow lentils, rice, and a tiny drop of golden ghee. The kitchen smelled sweet and rich and comforting.

Shaurya sat in his high chair. Mamma took a little spoon. Open wide for the warm food, Mamma said softly. Yummy, warm khichuri. One spoonful for Shaurya. Nom, nom, nom. Soft and delicious. Another spoonful for the busy little boy who watched the leaves dance. Nom, nom, nom.

Soon, Shaurya’s tummy was full and warm. His eyelids began to feel heavy, like two sleepy flower petals closing for the night.

Baba lifted Shaurya gently and carried him to the rocking chair by the bedroom window. The bedroom was dim and cozy, lit only by a tiny, warm nightlight. Outside, tiny drops of rain began to fall from the sky. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, tap, tap, tap against the window glass. The rain was singing a soft lullaby.

In Bengali, rain is called bristi. Bristi, whispered Baba, rocking slowly back and forth. Creak, rock, creak, rock. The rain falls so gently. Pitter-patter, bristi.

Mamma leaned close and began to sing a sweet Bengali lullaby in her soft, gentle voice. The song drifted through the room like a warm breeze. Shaurya laid his head on Baba’s shoulder. His thumb found its way to his mouth, then rested gently against his cheek.

He thought of the bright yellow leaf floating through the air. Flutter, flutter, plop. He thought of the crinkly red leaf. Crunch, crunch. He thought of the little gray squirrel with the big, fluffy tail. Twitch, twitch, twitch.

All the leaves outside were sleeping under the cool rain. The little squirrel was curled up tight in a warm cedar hollow, with his fluffy tail wrapped around him like a cozy blanket. And here inside, Shaurya was safe and snug, wrapped in the love of Mamma and Baba.

Shaurya let out a long, soft baby sigh. His eyes closed. Sleep, sweet sleep, came drifting in.

Baba placed Shaurya gently into his crib and pulled the soft blanket up to his chest. Mamma kissed his forehead. Baba kissed his cheek.

Goodnight, dancing leaves. Goodnight, busy little squirrel. Goodnight, sweet Shaurya. Sleep tight, little one.