Up above me sat a delicate maple leaf; blotchy in color but dominated by golden tips. Reaching out from the base, the brittle stem struggled to maintain the bridge with the branch, weakening with each passing second. Not much held it in place as it was carelessly tossed about by the wind. The leaf’s nearest neighbors had already succumbed to the struggle, leaving behind a slight indent, a reminder of what it once was. This leaf is different, it hung on to the branch like a child to their parent on their first day of school, not daring to lose all it has ever known. The wind is only going to get stronger. I could only help but sense the tension. The leaf is about to change, whether it liked it or not.
 
   The morning started off with boarding the bus. My class was told that we were going to go on a “nature walk.” We were asked to write about nature, every teenagers dream assignment. As we were herded onto the bus, I heard my classmates talking about taking a nap. It sounded very tempting after staying up late studying for that dreadful calculus final.
   It was a short drive. I spent the time studying with my friends and listening to music, my mind was as far away from this assignment as possible. “Alright class, you know what to do,” said Mrs. Miller, my teacher, as we pulled up.
The first step off the bus shocked my senses, the crisp morning air provided a jolt. I noticed the gentle leaves drifting down towards me, the mighty trees bowing in the wind. The morning dew had covered the ground like a flashlight into the night. It was going to be a chilly morning.
   I grouped up with my friends and we started our voyage down the freshly groomed trail. I didn’t expect to actually write about nature, all I planned to do was study. With my mind completely distracted, I followed the crowd. Many bends and curves later, we came up on the lake. It was nap time. The fresh smell of water opened the floodgate to happy memories. Relaxation took over and I found a comfy spot sitting on a log. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and took it all in.
   I may have fallen asleep for a bit, but I don’t exactly remember. When I opened my eyes, I noticed a big maple tree. How did I miss it earlier? It towered over the trees nearby. There was something else unique about it. All it’s leaves, except for one, were torn off. The golden leaf sat way up top, denying to succumb to the will of the wind. Rewind a week ago, and this tree would have been plump full of leaves. The wind stripped the tree one little leaf at a time, eventually taking them all. That tree had undergone change. It didn’t notice at first, a leaf here and a leaf there, but it all added up.
   Like the tree, I go through slight changes every day. Little things influencing me, like watching a jagged maple leaf way up above me slowly tremble in anticipation of the wind picking it up, and carrying it away to a destination that remains a mystery to all but the wind. Golden tips showing off to the world with all its might, catching a person’s eye in every slight movement. It was like the leaf had settled my mind into a deep trance, stopping everything in it’s tracks.
   I have changed so much in the last four years of my life, and I don’t regret anything. I have developed into who I am today, and I am grateful for it. My freshman year, I was intimidated by everything: singing, talking to upper classmen, tests, sports. I remember thinking, if I screwed up, what people would think of me?
   The years have seen me mature. In choir, my freshman year, I barely made a noise. I was so self-conscious, and afraid of what others thought, that I was too scared to try. Little steps like accidently singing louder, or trying to match the older kids, all had an effect. As time went by, the little steps started to show. I started to sing out, making some noise. I was changing; I knew I could do this. A year later I joined a few ensembles for choir where I had a leadership role; people were taking pitches and rhythm from me. Little thoughts always found their way into my head. Raise the sound into your forehead, breath deep, stretch the vowels. It was almost like my director was in my head. Eventually those little steps stuck, and now I do those things without trying, giving me confidence and the courage to show people what I can do.
   This change hasn’t slowed down. Just like the leaf, I wasn’t given a choice. I always set myself goals, and put myself in situations outside of my safety zone. When I settle on something and get good at it, I thirst for more. I want to change and become stronger, quicker, smarter. I am always trying to better myself.
   This train of thought led me into the future. It excited me because life is always changing. I’m curious to see the transformation that my senior year brings with it. Will I get that acceptance letter into the college I’ve wanted for years? That means another four years of changing. Maybe it’s naive, but I am excited for the future because I feel I will only change for the better. I feel a drive to get the tools needed to invent something groundbreaking. It’s a big goal, but I know it can be done, one little step at a time.

   The wind snapped me out of my trance as I realized I had been watching that leaf for minutes on end. I sighed, taking in the scenery once again. The ripples in the water, the bright flowers to my right, and the jungle of bushes to my left had secluded me while I ran down my trail of thoughts. My eyes returned to the leaf. Everything stopped. The wind ceased, ripples calmed, my breathing stopped. “Hey, Miller says it’s time to leave,” a friend called from the distance. I gathered my notebook and pencil and grudgingly made my way back to the trail. I looked over my shoulder to catch one last glimpse. Everything came back. The wind surged, the lake came back to life, and the flowers waved me goodbye. Somehow I knew it was going to happen. The wind gave the leaf one last push, tipping it over it’s breaking point. Snap, I could have felt it from a mile away. The leaf drifted downward, full of grace and purpose. Before it touched the ground, I turned and took my first step.