Maple Leaves and Gilbirds
Prologue
"Here you go, a Butterscotch latte. Is there anything else I could get you?" the barista slid the hot cup in a cardboard holder and gave it to the customer. "Have a great… day." She said as the customer dashed out of the small café muttering a quick thanks, waving her off. Where were they going so early in the morning that they had to rush out? They could have taken their time and let themselves relax while smelling freshly ground coffee brewing and the tea she was blending. Well, whatever. There isn't much she can really do about it, hopefully they will at least enjoy the cup of coffee, savor it at the least.
The bell above the door rang and an old man shuffled in. He had his bright white hair combed over to cover some of the balding he had and a pair of thin wire glasses perched on his nose.
"Good morning Mr. Beilschmidt, how are you today?"
"Well, I believe I am doing well today Rose. I'm not as creaky as I was yesterday, I feel awesome. How are you?" The old man said as he put a little skip in his step as he made his way to the front counter.
"I'm doing great as well. The usual?" Rose said as she grabbed two small cups. Giving him a great big smile.
"Ah, you know me all too well. Yes, yes two small coffees please." Mr. Beilschmidt chuckled his awesome old man chuckle. "How is your grandmother doing Rose? Still kickin' hard in that nursing home?"
"Oh, you know her. Grandma is livin' it up in there. She sent another care giver to the hospital again. Somehow she got a hold of that frying pan again. We still don't know how she keeps getting it." Rose said as she filled the cups with a Maple Roast coffee.
"The poor care giver, that frying pan is deadly. I hope he will make it out okay." Mr. Beilschmidt cringed thinking about the times that frying pan sent him to the hospital. That woman had a mean throw with that pan. He watched Rose put covers over the small coffees and slip the cups in a cardboard holder and set them on the counter. She turned quickly to the glass case that held some of the baked good she made this morning. Putting on a glove and grabbing a small paper bag she pulled out two pumpkin muffins and put them into the bag. She set them on the counter next to the coffees and turned around to her display of flavorings. She picked a tiny vile of maple syrup and put it into another bag.
"Alright, two small roast coffees. Your total is $4.00 even Mr. Beilschmidt." The cash register beeped a bit as she hit the buttons.
"Aw Rose, you didn't have to throw in that stuff. How much is it for all of it?"
"You come in here every day Mr. Beilschmidt and brighten my mood. And may I add that two muffins and a vile of maple syrup isn't going break the bank? They are on the house, please take them." Rose gave him a slightly doe-eyed sad look and she watched him stare for a minute, looking like he was taken aback for a moment before he snapped out of it.
"Okay, okay. But just this once, alright? I am a prideful man! I have the means, I will pay. Understood?" He said as he took his wallet out from his back pocket and took out four dollars. Rose stood at attention and saluted him with a serious face before taking his money with a proud smile. She knew that he would let her get away with it again, it happened every time. It was the sad puppy dog look, always worked like a charm.
"I understand completely. It will not happen again, sir." Rose said with another serious face and punctuated it with a simple nod before letting out another smile. She grabbed the coffees and bags and handed them to the old man before he put the bags into his backpack and shuffled to the door.
"See you later, Mr. Beilschmidt. Have a great day!" Rose said with a wave.
"Yes, yes I will. And stop calling me Mr. Beilschmidt. How many times do I have to tell you that you can call me Gilbert?" He said as he opened the door.
"Maybe next time, watch your step!"
"I am, I am." Gilbert said as he raised his hip a little higher to get his left leg over the doorstep. Letting the door shut behind him, he took a right.
It was early morning and the air was crisp, as it should be for autumn. Red and yellow leaves were falling off of trees and pumpkins were perched on doorsteps and in some windows of a few shops here and there. A couple cars drove by and made small tornados of the leaves on the streets. Gilbert breathed in the cold air and kept shuffling forward.
Reaching an intersection, he looked both ways before he crossed the street. Gazing at his moving feet Gilbert thought about Rose. She was such a nice girl; polite, gracious, and giving. He supposed she took after her grandfather.
Kicking a rock with his right foot, his knee gave and he buckled a bit before regaining his balance. He quickly got to the sidewalk where there was a bus bench, thankfully. He set the coffees and his backpack down before he set himself down. Rolling his left pant leg up, Gilbert readjusted his prosthetic leg to a more comfortable position; he just wanted to walk like a regular old man dammit. He hated that leg with a passion, but he was not about to use crutches or hop everywhere, no way. That would be much to embarrassing.
Rolling the fabric back down to cover the offending hunk of metal and plastic. Gilbert stood back up, picked up his things, and walked (much more comfortably than before he would say) eastbound, watching his feet as they moved him.
Suddenly, he saw a huge leaf move in front of him. Stopping on it to keep it from floating away, Gilbert noticed that it was a deep red maple leaf. Picking it up he was awestruck at how pristine it was, he felt bad for stepping on it. He turned it over by the stem and searched for any imperfections, but he couldn't find any. It was completely flawless. Putting it in his pocket Gilbert continued forward.
A few blocks later and Gilbert came to the edge of the town's cemetery. He followed the path that divided the cemetery and the forest until he came to a turn in the path. Pressing forward a few more paces he came face to face with a giant old tree. The tree glowed red and green as the low sun began rising to reach above it. This old tree was as beautiful as it was stubborn, it never really loses its leaves until the end of November; while all of the other trees lost their leaves later on. Gilbert would never know how the old tree did it.
Gilbert walked closer to the tree and gazed at the spot where it looked like someone scraped the bark off. He set the coffee down and thoughtfully kissed his hand and placed it over the exposed tree as if he were apologizing. He looked down and let his eyes follow the ground until his eyesight hit stone. Walking over to the side of the gravestone, Gilbert sat down. He grabbed the coffees and opened his bag to grab out the maple syrup. Taking off the lids and opening the vile, he poured some syrup into both cups and swirled them to mix it in. Placing the lids back on he set one in front of the grave and kept one for himself.
Gilbert would stay here for most of his day, underneath the tree next to the gravestone. He would talk, quite a bit actually. Not much of any real importance; how he was feeling that day, what he did the night before, about Rose. He would talk about anything to be honest, the gravestone never complained and always listened. Maybe that's why Gilbert found it so comforting? It was always there to listen to him and helped him think when he needed to find a solution to something. He always thought the gravestone didn't mind, in fact, Gilbert would believe that the gravestone enjoys his company as well, so he would talk. And talk he would, until late dusk, when he finally decided that it would be best if he went home.
Today was just the same, he sat and talked. He talked about the newest election, and the middle east. He talked about how there were some crazy kids running around town trying to catch "Pokémon". He even pointed out a few. And when the sun finally set, Gilbert stood up. He pulled the leaf from his pocket and placed it on the bottom ledge of the gravestone and then grabbed the cold coffee. He dumped the coffee out at the tree base and put the cup and lid back together.
"It was a wonderful day today." Gilbert said as he turned.
A small gust of wind almost seemed to say "yes, it was".