The Tree and the Black Sheep: A Story of Letting Go

The old oak tree stood at the edge of the meadow, its roots deep in the soil and its branches stretching wide. A gentle wind rustled through, and one golden leaf let go, spiraling down to the ground.

“Another one gone,” sighed the Tree. “I felt its weight grow light, then it slipped away. I suppose it was time.”

A black sheep grazing nearby lifted its head. “Does it hurt, when they leave?”

“Not pain the way you know it,” the Tree replied. “But an emptiness. Each leaf is part of me, yet none are meant to stay forever. Some fall early, some late. The letting go is part of living.”

The black sheep lowered its head, pawing at the earth. “I think I know something of that emptiness. The flock keeps moving, and though I run with them, I am not like them. My wool is dark where theirs is white. They look at me, but not quite the same way they look at each other. Sometimes I wonder if I belong at all.”

The Tree’s branches creaked as it leaned ever so slightly. “Do you think the leaf wonders about its color before it falls? Brown, gold, green each has its season, and each is mine. I do not love one more than another.”

The black sheep thought for a long moment. “Then perhaps being different isn’t a curse. Perhaps it’s just another season, another color.”

“Exactly,” said the Tree, watching another leaf flutter down. “People will fall from your life, just as leaves fall from me. Some by choice, some because the wind carries them away. But their leaving doesn’t lessen you. And being different doesn’t make you less it makes you part of the greater pattern. Every shade, every season, every sheep, every leaf, has its place.”

The black sheep lifted its head high, staring at the wide sky above. “Then I’ll walk on as I am, dark against the meadow, and maybe that’s the way I was meant to be.”

“And I’ll keep standing,” whispered the Tree, “shedding what must go, and holding what remains. In time, you’ll see nothing truly leaves us. It only changes form.”

And in the hush of that meadow, leaf and sheep, tree and wind, difference and loss, all became part of the same story.

© 2025 Jenise Ehrhardt / Expressive DeZien. All rights reserved. This content may not be copied, reproduced, or used without written permission.