Translation Request American English

She watched the last leaf that withered and fell. Its journey to the ground was slow and difficult; each time it was about to touch the ground, an incoming wind would lift it to a new height. Minutes passed, and it remained in the air, unable to land.

She had watched the process of all those falling leaves, each one finally drifting down. But it was too agonizingly difficult, because it took so long. She had to turn her gaze elsewhere. The other leaves, all 896 of them, had managed to fall from the tree to the ground in less than a minute. This one was the last survivor, the last of its kind, and it had taken too long.

She had watched them intently every day since fall began to fall. She had been at the window just as the sun rose, gazing at the old oak. She had watched children play on the fallen leaves, kicking them up and floating them in the air, running fast through piles of leaves, and, if it had rained the previous night, skating on the wet leaves.

None of this escaped her.

Except for that last fallen leaf.

When it finally began that brave descent, it was too much for her to bear, too much to cope with. When it had just detached itself from its life-giver, she had given up her pretensions. It was that one time she allowed herself to weep.

The nurses had sensed that something wasn't quite right with her; she hadn't noticed him leaving.

In fact, she knew he was gone; they just didn't understand the connection. Every time a leaf fell it made her remember him, miss his smile or warm touch. She had hoped that the old oak tree would grow more leaves that would keep her missing him. As long as she could think of him, she would remain in her heart.

When the last leaf fell, she gave up hope. For a month and three days she watched the falling leaves and waited.

Thirty-four days she maintained without him.

Thirty-four days and 896 leaves.

It was not enough, but it was all she could sustain.