Barbara J. Hamby

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The Last Leaf

One last leaf clings stubbornly to a branch on the skinny little dogwood tree in the backyard. It refuses to join its former companions on the cold wet grass below. Its tenuous connection to the tree can’t possibly still be providing nourishment to the leaf.  Today sun shines on the leaf’s golden surface, making it stand out even more than on recent rainy days.

That little leaf reminds me of friends and relatives who hold on to life for dear life, even when that life no longer has any semblance of its former quality.

I admire the courage of those I’ve known who’ve chosen to leave this world by starving and/or dehydrating themselves, when life was no longer of value to them.

The frivolous reason I live in Oregon is that I don’t have to pump my own gasoline. I never aspired to be a service station attendant.

The serious reason I live here is that this state allows its residents more freedom to determine their own destiny when life loses its value.