Me Versus The Leaf Stuck In My Windshield Wiper

To the leaf that was stuck in my windshield wiper.

I see you.  I know why you’re there.  A fallen leaf from the tree in my front yard.  I should know the species, but I don’t, so at first, you mock my ignorance.  You are yellow with specks of brown.  You flap in the wind while I drive down 205.  I activate my wipers and you just roll with them, taking a ride, and all the while I can’t stop looking.

But that’s the point, isn’t it?

I am supposed to ignore you.  I succeeded in my efforts to become less anal-retentive.  I do not have OCD.  Anytime OCD reared its head I shot it down. I was lucky.  I did not want to be a slave to ritual. I didn’t need the world to be symmetric and organized the way my brain likes it.  I should just let you go.  Whether you are there or not, I should look ahead and concentrate on my driving. It’s safer.  I am an adult.  I should move on.

But you keep flapping.  It’s a small vibrating movement out of the corner of my eye.  You are testing me to see if I crack.  This has become a battle of will.  I cannot let a dead leaf beat me.  I am stronger.  I will focus on my job.  I’ll listen to my podcasts and watch for traffic and pretty soon that leaf will fall from memory.  I daydream a little about when my kids were little.  I think of Thanksgiving and Christmas, and Halloween costumes.  I am reminded of how excited the little ones get when the temperature drops.   I think of the taste of nutmeg and pumpkin pie. I imagine that stuffed feeling you get when there is too much sugary crap around.  I see an SUV in front of me and wonder if it’s parents out shopping for gifts.

Dammit.  You’re back.

I thought I had it. I went about ten minutes without looking.  I had two stops to make and you were completely out of sight and out of mind. Then the flapping kicked in again.  You returned.  The cycle began anew.  I hate you, you asshole.

I see you again and again.  The flapping. The damn flapping. I notice there is a second leaf wedged in there as well, but he’s not flapping because he’s not an asshole.

You win.  I give.  At one of my last stops I yank you and your friend out and whip you into a nearby driveway. Congratulations.  You beat me.  

My victory is that I don’t care that I was bested by a dead leaf.  I’m not saddened; I don’t beat myself up.  I laugh about it. Then I write about it. 

Thanks, leaf.