Autumn Leaves

Autumn Leaves

Noel Laflin

9-9-18

With autumn in the air and leaves falling about, I am reminded of Catherine. We met when she was already a nonagenarian.

When she died, she left behind a vast collection of books neatly lining the shelves of her spare room. As a devoted reader to her dying day, she always referred to it as her treasure room.

“Better than money,” she was fond of saying.

“Well, almost,” she would amend with a sly smile.

It fell to her daughter, who was no spring chicken herself by then, to clean up the place and sort through her mother’s possessions. After ninety-five years of living, however, Catherine had very few, other than some old pieces of furniture and lots of books. Perhaps it was the memory of traveling with so few possessions from a century past that led her to a life devoid of clutter – other than her treasured books of course.

Catherine had come out west with her family when she was just five. They joined one of last wagon trains and followed the Oregon Trail. And although very young, and perhaps one of the last to do so by horse-drawn wagon, she recalled memories of the journey – high mountains, dusty trails, star-filled nights, campfires, the falling of leaves as autumn set in once they reached their destination. It was always a pleasure to be in her company when she began to reminisce about such things.

The reminiscing was over following her death unfortunately. There was just the practical now at hand. Thus, furniture was either saved or donated and the books were placed in cardboard boxes.

One of the novels, a Western, according to her daughter, was knocked off the shelf accidentally. As it landed, a hundred dollar bill poked its head out of the middle of the pages.

Soon, every book was retrieved from its box and shook vigorously, along with those still on the shelf.

By the time the dust settled and the bills counted, more than six thousand dollars went floating about Catherine’s treasure room – just like leaves falling in autumn.