Cherry Blossom

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There’s a cherry blossom tree in the park near my house. Every Spring it flowers, and the soft pink petals fall to the earth, making a sweet-smelling carpet. I like to walk there, crushing the delicate petals beneath my sneakers while more petals drift lazily down onto my upturned face.

It’s Spring now. I’m walking towards the park, a new book under my arm. I’m going to read it under the cherry blossom tree. As I approach the tree, I think I hear a girl singing something in a foreign language. I listen, enraptured, to her beautiful voice. I keep walking closer, but she must see me, for she stops singing.

Where are you? I call out. Please don’t stop singing.

But all I can hear is silence. Somewhat disappointed, I sit at the base of the cherry blossom tree and read my book. It is wonderful, full of amazing adventures, and I am soon lost in the fairy-tale world of dragons and knights and other magical beings.

The air is warm, and there’s a slight breeze that rustles the leaves of the trees around me. Soft flower petals drift down past my face. I watch them sleepily. The sun warms my body and makes me want to take a nap. I give in to the urge, and fall asleep there under the cherry blossom tree.

I think I might be dreaming. I can hear the girl singing again. And this time, I can see her too.

She’s tiny, like a fairy. Clad in the soft pink of the cherry blossoms, she dances from tree branch to tree branch. Her fair hair shimmers in the sunlight. I want to reach out and touch her. She seems so real, and at the same time, she makes me think that I’m only imagining her, that she could never be solid and real as the tree against my back.

Suddenly, I realize that I am not dreaming. This is all real. The cherry blossom girl, she really does exist. I can see her, still dancing. She’s stopped singing by now. She stands there, smiling at me. Her smile almost breaks my heart, it’s so beautiful. It’s as if all the good things in the world came together to be projected through her, and her smile. I return the smile hesitantly.

She grabs my hand. I’m startled. Everything looks so big! I’ve always been small for my age, but now I seem to have shrunk to her size: the size of a fairy. A single petal from the cherry blossom tree is the size of my hand.

Come with me, she says. He voice is so lovely, like a million sunny and warm Spring days all rolled up into one. Come, follow me.

Keeping her hand clasped in mine, I follow her. We leap from tree branch to tree branch. It’s thrilling. The ground seems so far away, but I’m not afraid. I feel so light, as if I could fly.

Then it’s all over, and I’m waking up. The sun is setting and there are flower petals in my hair. A single, miniscule cherry blossom lies in my upturned palm. I have a vague memory of pleasant dreams; of flying and dancing, light and song and warmth. I stand up, pick up my book, and walk home.

There are two cherry blossom trees in the park near my house. There used to be just one, and nobody knows where the second came from. Sometimes, on a warm Spring afternoon, if you go by yourself to the park, you can hear the Spirits of the cherry blossom trees singing. And maybe, if you’re lucky, they’ll come out of hiding and sing with you.