TheBanyanTree: BY THE LIGHT OF THE SILVERY MOON-A Short Story

[smack58 at nycap.rr.com]

BY THE LIGHT OF THE SILVERY MOON
by Sharon A. Mack

Late autumn and Mother Nature has once again changed her costume. She is preparing for winter snows, covering the earth in a blanket of leaves now turning brown bit by bit.   I walked along the leaf-strewn path, under the yellowed maples and red stringy leaves of the Staghorn Sumacs that drank deeply from the river’s edge.  Swaying pine boughs mix in behind and between the smaller trees casting their dark shadows along the way.  Twilight’s purple light has just begun.

I take the dogs to walk here when time allows.  I love to watch them adjust to each season’s temperatures and their surroundings, bounding through the not yet grown grasses and budding shrubs in spring, the tall grasses in summer, and the now, crispy crunchy leaves of autumn.  They snuffle and roll and play, so happy to be outside, stretching their freedom for all it is worth.

After play is done, we move to the center of the park and enter the formal gardens.  No residue of summer’s green remains. The flowerbeds are growing as brown and gray as the rest of the park.  I find a seat on one of the cold stone benches. The pups are back on their leashes and they have become quiet and companionable, lying down upon my feet with muzzles resting on their front paws.  I sit back against a lone tree that is close to the edge of the bench and close my eyes, allowing my mind to drift…to remember the many weddings that have taken place here. Some of the memories are of friends, some of strangers that I watched from afar.  I let the evening breezes chill my cheeks and enjoy the sensation.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, I remember Paul. I don’t want to at first and I try to brush him from my mind, but he stays.  He will not leave.  At last I give in and relax and let the memories come.

We had come to this spot many years ago.  I can see him now.  Strong and full of life, his dark hair falling low over his brow, smiling at me with his jaunty, crooked smile.  I think I can even smell him.  He is on the breeze and I warm to the memory.  I sense the excitement of him all over again.  I remember the satin of my gown, the Tulle and satin bows that adorned it and my veil, and the daisies braided through my hair.  We are so young; we are so innocent.   I watch from my memory’s distance as he plucks a bow from under my veil after the ceremony before he kisses me.  I stop to take a deep breath and then he kisses me at last… tenderly just before he touches the bow to his lips.  Paul smiles at me, stuffing the bow into his breast pocket.  I wonder now what happened to that bow and as I wonder, Paul disappears and I am suddenly cold.

The dogs suddenly become restless. I open my eyes and see that darkness has come.  The moon and stars shine brightly in the cold black sky.  The light cast on the leaves and branches make them appear silver and gray.  I gather the pups and take up their leashes.  I don’t want to leave my thoughts behind, but there is no help for it.  They are as cold as the night now.  I turn slowly toward the path when something catches my eye….a small white satiny glint that is barely visible under the pale light of the moon. It is half hidden beneath a large maple leaf, a leaf that is so unlike the others that it draws me to it.  I kneel and pick up the small satin bow and realize that the leaf it was under is still the bright green of summer.