The Gifts of the Giving Tree

Once there was a tree

and she loved a little boy.

And everyday the boy would come

and he would gather her leaves

and make them into crowns

and play king of the forest.

He would climb up her trunk

and swing from her branches

and eat apples.

And the apples stained his mouth a strange color

and it wasn’t green and it wasn’t red

and the stain wouldn’t go away

no matter how much his mother scrubbed his mouth

after he’d eaten them

(she loved the little boy very much)

And they would play hide-and-go-seek.

And when he was tired,

he would sleep in her shade.

(she loved him best when he was asleep)

(he never woke up with quite the same color eyes)

(and his mother hated to hug him after he came home from the tree)

(though she could never explain why)

And the boy loved the tree, very much.

And the tree was happy.

But time went by.

And the boy grew older.

And the tree was often alone.

Then one day the boy came to the tree

and the tree said, “Come, Boy, come and

climb up my trunk and swing from my

branches and eat apples and play in my

shade and be happy.”

And the boy did.

And it seemed to him that time passed differently

in the shadow of the tree

and it seemed to him that he felt dizzy

after only a few minutes of playing

but the sun was gone, just the same.

(the tree was a very giving tree)

Take my apples, Boy,” said the tree, “and sell them.

Then you will have money and

you will be happy.”

“No thank you,” the boy said politely. “I really

should be getting back to the city.”

“I insist,” said the tree,

and it seemed to the boy that the ground grew hot and hummed around him

and his wrists hurt and his throat hurt until his mouth opened

and he said “Yes”

and the tree purred.

Hand to God, the tree purred

and then he was sick in the bushes.

So the boy climbed up the

tree and gathered her apples

and carried them away.

And the tree was happy.

And the boy stayed feeling sick.

And the tree stood a little taller, and grew back

all of her apples,

and then some.

And the apples weren’t quite green

and they weren’t quite red.

But the boy stayed away for a long time….

and the tree was angry.

And then one day the boy came back

and the tree shook.

and she said, “Come, Boy, climb up my trunk

and swing from my branches and be happy.”

“Please,” said the boy.

“I have a home. I have a wife. I have a family,” he said.

I didn’t want to come back. I don’t–

I don’t remember how I got here.

Where are they? Have you seen them?”

“I have no house,” said the tree.

“I can’t remember their names,” said the boy

almost to himself.

“The forest is my house,” said the tree lightly,

so lightly the boy could almost think

he imagined hearing her voice.

“But you may cut off

my branches and build a

house. Then you will be happy.”

“Yes,” the boy said slowly,

“Then I will be happy.”

And so the boy cut off her branches

to build his house.

And he forgot the names of his wife

and his children

and the house outside the forest

(he had never been outside the forest)

and he ate nothing but apples

and grew thinner and more thin

and smiled every day

and fell down often

(he was so clumsy)

And the tree was happy.

But then one day the boy wandered a bit further than usual

and he crossed a stream

and as he crossed the stream his mind came back to itself.

And the boy ran. The boy ran and he shook and he ran and he vomited and he ran.

It took the police a week to find out his name

and his last known address

and his family cried

and he cried

and they hugged

and the tree knew where he was.

The boy stayed away for a long time.

And when he came back,

the tree was so happy

she could hardly speak.

“Come, Boy,” she whispered,

“come and play.”

“I am too old and sad to play,”

said the boy.

“No, you’re not,”

the tree said. “You’re just a boy.”

and for a minute it seemed to the boy

that she was right

and his knees didn’t ache

and his ears weren’t fogged

and he could almost hear his mother calling him home for dinner

instead of being dead and laid out in the ground

face turned up in the dirt

(which is where she really was)

“Cut down my trunk

and make a boat,” said the tree.

“Then you can sail away…

and be happy.”

And so the boy cut down her trunk

and made a boat and sailed away.

But even though the wind blew

and the waves slopped against the side of the boat

the boy knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I know this isn’t real,” he whispered

and he knew the tree was smiling

and he was right.

There was no boat.

And he had never left her,

she had never let him leave her,

not even when thought he had.

She had never let him really leave her.

And the tree was happy.

“I am sorry, Boy,”

said the tree,” but I have nothing

left to give you -”

“You have never given me anything,” the boy said.

“How long have you kept me here, really?”

The tree ignored the question. “My apples are gone.”

“My teeth are too weak

for apples,” said the boy. “Am I old? Did you let me grow old here, alone?”

“My branches are gone,”

said the tree. ” You

cannot swing on them – ”

“I am too old to swing

on branches,” realized the boy. “You let me

grow old here.”

“My trunk is gone, ” said the tree.

“You cannot climb – ”

“I am too tired to climb,” said the boy.

He was too tired even to hate her.

At least the tree was real.

“I am sorry,” sighed the tree.

“I wish that I could give you something….

but I have nothing left.

I am just an old stump.

I am sorry….”

You are not sorry, the boy thought to himself.

“I don’t need very much now,” said the boy.

“just a quiet place to sit and rest.

I am very tired.”

“Well,” said the tree, straightening

herself up as much as she could,

“well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting

Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.”

And he was too tired to fight her.

And the boy sat.

And the tree was happy.

And he is still sitting there,

under the apples that are not quite green

and not quite red

and he has not moved for a long time

and the tree is very

very

very

very

very

(the tree is not a stump)

very

(the tree was never a stump)

very

very

very

(the tree has grown her branches back)

very

very

(the tree is looking for other boys)

happy.