From the Perspective of a Tree

From the Perspective of a Tree

In my younger days I was fun. Children would run to me with open arms and even include me in their games. I was always the goal, but I was okay with that. Some kids would throw balls over the top of me and once in a blue moon I was even able to catch a few. My leaves provided entertainment for the children that would last hours. I would become giddy as it was time for them to fall, because I knew I was the cause of such laughter. When someone was being tagged, I was their only source of protection. The children would hug me as hard as they hugged their own mother, and I would smile with so much joy. Some even built houses on my branches! I just loved being a part of their play.

In my middle life, I was cool. The teenagers would sneak off to see me. Some were emotional and I would listen to them talk about their parents or heartaches. Some would tie a swing to my branches and I would hold them up as they fantasized of what they were going to make of themselves. I was happy to be of such support to them. They thought I was so awesome that they gave me tattoos with their initials in it. I stood strong and decorated while I provided the shade for their first kisses and romantic dreams.

As I aged a little more, I would stand proud as parents picked and prodded at me. They would eat lunch right next to me. I would provide a nice cool place for them to read their books. They would plant flowers around me, sometimes even hang ornaments on my trunk. Once in a while I was even able to hold the signs for their sales or lost puppies. It was such a joy to be a center piece of so many photographs and family get-togethers.

As I grow older I find myself depressed. Each day passes me by and I can hardly believe the changes I’ve seen. It seems like yesterday, I was the source of everyone’s attention. Today, I stand forgotten. I used to smile when I would see children walking by, but most of the time they don’t even notice me. They all walk with their heads down looking at the rectangle things. They swipe their fingers one way and then the next. Sometimes I feel invisible. The other day, a child (looking down as usual) walked right into me. He was angry and kicked me, then left.

Nobody appreciates my shade anymore. Most people are in their cars with the windows rolled up and the air conditioning running. I guess I’m just not cool. I haven’t gotten a tattoo in years. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen children play, or since I’ve consoled a teenager. Parents no longer enjoy me, instead they post the signs on screens. I used to be a strong source of beauty and fun, now I’m lucky to be standing here. See, the people cut down all my friends. They didn’t even use the wood. They burned them or left them to rot away. I used to be such an important part of people’s lives, but as technology grows, I’ve been forgotten. I hope they don’t forget that I breathe the breath of their life.

If you are reading this, save society and befriend a tree.

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