A Leaf Between Two Letters

Avery found the letter by the front door, tucked beneath a grocery flyer. On its envelope, June had drawn a bright green bean with a tiny smile.

“What did June send this time?” Avery wondered.

Avery carried it to the garden, where Mama was filling a flowerpot with soil. Avery opened the letter carefully. Inside was a picture of June at her sunny apartment windowsill. Beside her stood a little pot, and in it was a small plant with two leaves.

“Dear Avery,” June’s note said. “I planted a seed! It likes the sunny window. What should we grow together?”

Avery looked across the garden. There were flowers, a birdbath, and one empty pot just the right size for a new plant.

“I want to grow something with June,” Avery said. “Then we can send pictures as it gets bigger.”

Avery had saved a little paper packet of flower seeds. They were meant to go into the empty pot. Avery pictured the seeds resting in the soil, then sending up green stems for June to see.

That afternoon, Avery carried the packet outside. A breeze nudged the garden gate. Avery reached to close it, and—whoops!—the watering can tipped off the bench.

Water splashed across the path and under the flowerpot. The paper packet slid into a puddle. Avery snatched it up, but the seeds inside were wet and soft. Some had stuck to the paper. Others had become mushy.

Avery stared at the packet. “Oh, no. They can’t grow like this.”

Mama sat beside Avery on the step. “That’s disappointing,” she said gently.

Avery nodded. The empty pot waited in the garden. June’s plant waited in the picture. Avery wanted to write that everything was going wonderfully, but the soggy packet sat in Avery’s hand.

That evening, Avery placed a blank sheet of paper on the table. A crayon rolled to one side. Avery picked it up and began to draw the garden pot—empty, but still ready.

Then Avery started a letter to June.

“Dear June,” Avery wrote, “I wanted to plant my flower seeds with you. But the watering can tipped, and my seeds got wet and mushy. I feel sad. My pot is still waiting.”

Avery drew the soggy packet, too. It wasn’t a fancy picture, but it told the truth.

Mama helped Avery put the letter in the mailbox. Then Avery watched it go away with the mail carrier, down the street and out of sight.

The next few days felt slow. Avery checked the empty pot each morning. The soil was ready, but there was nothing to grow in it. Avery watered the flowers nearby and listened to the birds, but the little pot stayed empty.

Then, one bright afternoon, a new envelope arrived. It had a picture of June’s sunny windowsill on the front. Avery hurried to open it.

“Dear Avery,” June had written. “I’m sorry about your seeds. My grandma says beans are easy to grow in a pot. I put a few bean seeds in this letter. Would you like to plant one with me?”

Avery tipped the envelope gently. Three plump beans rolled into Avery’s palm. June had drawn one tucked into a pot of soil, with a sun smiling above it.

Avery’s face brightened. “A bean! We can try again.”

With Mama’s help, Avery filled the waiting pot with fresh soil. Avery pressed one bean into the soil and covered it with a soft blanket of dirt. Then Avery gave it a little water—not too much—and set the pot in a warm, sunny spot in the garden.

“Now we wait,” Mama said.

Avery made a picture for June: one bean under the soil and one big question mark above it. “I planted yours!” Avery wrote.

At June’s apartment, June planted a bean in a small pot by the sunny window. She drew Avery’s garden pot beside her own.

Days passed. Avery kept the soil gently damp and checked for changes. At first, nothing showed. Then one morning, Avery spotted a tiny bump in the dirt.

Avery leaned close. The soil lifted just a little, as if the bean were stretching awake.

Avery called Mama to the garden. “Look! The soil has a little hill!”

They watched quietly. The bump grew, and a small green curve pushed above the dirt. Avery’s eyes grew wide. The bean had sprouted.

Avery took a picture with crayons. There was the pot, the brown soil, and a green curl reaching up. The letter said, “Dear June, it’s coming! I see a tiny green sprout!”

Across town, June read the news at her sunny windowsill. Her own bean plant had begun to grow, too. She drew both pots side by side, each with a little green sprout, and mailed the picture to Avery.

Avery’s plant stretched taller in the warm garden. One morning, a folded leaf opened at the top. It was small and bright, like a green hand waving hello.

Avery drew the first leaf carefully. “This is the best part,” Avery said. “Now June can see it.”

June’s next letter arrived with a drawing of her plant’s leaves and a tiny picture of June waving from the window. Avery placed the letter beside the flowerpot, where the sun warmed the paper without hiding the picture.

That evening, the garden grew quiet. The flowers nodded in the soft breeze. Avery tucked the newest drawing beside the bean plant and smoothed one corner so it would not blow away.

At June’s apartment, June set her latest drawing beside her plant. The sunny windowsill glowed gently as the day faded. She looked at her leaves, then at Avery’s little green one in the picture, and smiled.

Avery rested a hand near the pot. The leaf held still in the evening air, green and bright against the darkening garden. Avery imagined June looking at her own plant, thinking about the leaf that had opened in Avery’s yard.

Soon, both children were tucked into bed. Avery thought of the two pots resting in their different towns, with their letters close by. The plants were quiet in the night, and the children pictured the next leaf they would tell each other about.