The Littlest Tree.

February 10, 2010
Even the wind was beginning to get to me; whipping against my tightly confined body. Biting at my small amount of greenery and short skinny body; it neglected to freeze me. I was used to it; having grown up as a small Douglas Fir Tree with it hitting me everyday; somehow this was different, perhaps in the sense that this air felt less inviting, cooler, more foreign and frightening.


Everything was frightening; from the second the two men had appeared. Their machinery roaring as they dismissed my small size with a shrug, reducing my roots to a mere stump, lonely and so empty. Moments before, all 5 feet of me had rested there; without my consent, quite rudely, I had been carelessly tossed into a truck, driven here. Wherever here was.


The others began to disappear. At first it was slowly, almost unnoticeably, they left. As the wind grew colder; stronger our population rapidly reduced. Companions became scarcer; barely any left binded, as I was. The white netting confined my limbs; disabling my ability to stretch out and taste any small beam of light that could play among my branches, as it used to. If only I could quench my longing for something other than disdained stares; someone who could perceive me as beautiful.


The light snowflakes fell for the first time last night, catching upon the other tree’s branches; not mine, they slid off my wretched branches, not able to come through the tight netting. Emotions swelled through me, as I witnessed the other tree’s contentment at the white blankets covering their graceful limbs; looking all the more beautiful, they would probably go home today.


Rest was all I needed; to wait for the comfort of night; to get through another day of disregard, of shame to my ugly form. Yes, that’s what I am, ugly. Awakening to the sweet sensation of fingers dancing across my bottom branches, where the birds used to linger, awoke me. This time, it was a small girl; her large smile and dark eyes, immediately causing me to like her. She fought at my netting, wrapping her small arms around me, until I was free. For the first time in weeks my branches spread out, turned upward from my horrid confinement.


A girl not much older than my savior grabbed her small hands, “Emma, come on; let’s find a tree.” Emma pointed to me, “Pretty,” she stated proudly. After a quick glance the girl touched my top branch, shooting hope throughout every inch of me. As she shook her head my hopes crashed to the ground, “Sweetie, this one is too small. It has too many gaps; we couldn’t possibly put it in our home, what would the neighbors think?” With one more look the girl shouted, “Pretty!” grabbing at me, collapsing in tears. If only I could cry, as Emma was led away, to a tall, full tree that was greeted with a smile of delight instead of one of scorn; then I would’ve perpetually cried.


Christmas was growing closer, me still numb from the outright hate that Emma’s mother had cruelly made quite obvious; wasn’t this the season of giving and love; acceptance and miracles? So, where were my miracles and love? Only a few trees, such as me, were left in the nearly abandoned lot on Christmas Eve. This would be my very last chance, if today no one loved me, who knew what would become of me?


No one came.





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Laughternchoclate said...
Apr. 2, 2010 at 7:56 pm

Awww 

This made me sad! I'm gonna buy the small tree next time :)

Great job!

 
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