... The maidens eat
And stray impassioned on the littering leaves.
Wallace Stevens
That fall, our family was like bumper cars, all alike, careening off of one another. I went out into the circle of the playground. There were other children there. We found yellow leaves shaped like mittens strewn on the ground. We bit them. They had a sweet, syrupy taste. For a while we ate the leaves, passing and repassing over the passing leaves.
Gradually the others lost interest and wandered away. I was alone, passing and repassing over the sweet, fallen leaves, my leaves.
Twilight came, and dark. In the fullness of mourning, I knew that I had eaten all the leaves. Still I wandered, broken hearted, over the yellow circle of ground strewn with eaten leaves.
23
The others called. Wiggly Nose, across the way, had invited us in for tea. I sat in a high, plump chair. The room was hot and tiny and smelled of medicine. Wiggly Nose's white hair was short and wild. The others talked, but she talked only to me. "Do you like sugar?" she asked. "This much sugar?" and she shoveled it in with a great silver shovel. I felt hot, and sick, and sleepy. I couldn't talk. I drank a few sips of the tea. It made me feel sick, but I drank some more. I kept drinking. I finished the cup.
The others left. I stayed. Wiggly Nose poured me more tea. I drank. Wiggly Nose kissed me on the mouth.
When I got home, my mother asked, ―Where were you?‖ It was supper time.
We all sat down at the table. I couldn't eat. ―I think you have a fever,‖ my mother said.
She bundled me off to bed.