The Leaves of Summer

The last thing about his hard I can remember is the little green leaf buds starting to grow in his tree.

Three days ago he stopped waitin' for me. At first I thought he just had other things to do, like those important grown up things, but then Daddy sat next to me when I was in my room and said that Mr. Carter wasn't with us anymore. That he went away. Well, I saw Mr. Carter on the T.V. that night and I thought he got really famous and moved to Hollywood. The lady on the T.V. was talkin' 'bout him but I couldn't understand what she was sayin' so I left to go outside.

"...when an African-American was beaten outside his home by a group of white supremacists. They later tied him to their truck and drove down the three-oh-four freeway, dragging him to his death."

All the trees outside were losin' their leaves. Even mine. I sat myself down on my porch steps and waited for Mr. Carter to come back.

Come to think of it, his was the only house with a tree that was full of the colorful leaves of summer. There were bright ones like his smile, dark ones like his skin, and all the colors in between.

In this story I was really trying to capture the innocence of the voice, which is that of a child. I was hoping to create something moving. Something that made you think, even if just about something miniscule.