The Trees

When I was a child I liked to climb trees. Not just trees, though, I liked to climb everything. Couches, cabinets, and eventually I worked my way up to the street light in front of my house. These were all great, especially the streetlight, but trees were my favorite. Sinking my shredded fingertips into the bark, straining to lift myself higher, I could sit proudly on just the right branch and turn into nobody.

The trees never cared about anything. They came before us without fear of God or clothes or money or hell. It never mattered to the trees if I climbed them or even looked at them. They just swayed in the breeze and died in the winter, with no deviation from their simple purpose.

I love Shel Silverstein, I always wanted to live a life that he would believe in. It broke my heart when I discovered The Giving Tree was wrong. Maybe I thought that throughout my whole life there was something there to provide me with everything I needed, whether I understood where my life was going or not.

When I got older and the story got more serious, I thought maybe I could be the Giving Tree. Someone in need could take my branches, trunk, and love. I think that’s natural. I started out thinking I could feed eternally. Then I thought that I could be the one to provide. Lots of people probably stop here.

I don’t think I want to go back to believing any of this, I can’t see how life made any sense then. I’ll probably say the same thing in five years about the reality I see now.

Maybe I should have given my life away. I could resist the world and give my life to a loved one, or succumb to the higher forces and live my life the way everyone wanted me to. I got caught in between, though. Now I don’t live my life at all. I watch my family and the doctors and the children live my life for me. I think its pretty obvious now that the struggle is the point. Escaping the struggle is impossible. If you think you’ve succeeded, you are just paralyzed, watching the struggle take place without you.