Tonight, I’m reflecting on the story of a tree and a boy. It’s based on a short film entitled “The Giving Tree,” a simple thought-provoking piece about a Tree who loved a Boy.
The Tree and the Boy played hide and seek in his boyhood. The Boy would swing from her branches, playfully climbed all over her, ate her apples, slept under her shade. The Tree loved those carefree, happy years with the Boy during his childhood.
Then, as the Boy grew up, he spent less time with the Tree. At one time, the Boy, now a young man, passed by and the Tree invited him to play. But the lad was only interested in money. “Take my apples and sell them,” offered the Tree. He did … and the Tree was happy.
The Boy didn’t return for seasons. It was a long time and the Tree was missing him. When the Boy passed by one day, the Tree smilingly invited him again, “Come on, let’s play!” But the Boy – now fully grown – was obsessed building a house for himself. “Cut off my branches and build your house,” the Tree offered. The Boy did … and the Tree was happy.
Many years dragged by. The Tree missed the Boy a lot. It seemed he had forgotten the Tree. Suddenly, the Tree saw him in a distance and cheerfully shouted, “Hey, friend, come on and let’s play!” But the Boy, now older, wanted to get away and take a vacation. “Cut me down and make yourself a boat to sail away,” said the Tree. He did that … and the Tree was happy.
Many seasons again passed — summers, winters, springs, harvests, windy days and lonely nights — and the Tree waited for the Boy. Finally, the Boy, an old, old man returned. He is now too old, too tired to play, to work, to build houses, to pursue money, or to travel the seas. “I have a pretty good trunk left, my Boy. Why don’t you just sit down here and rest?” The Boy did … and the Tree was happy.
As I sipped my drink, I sat still. I took time to reflect the years that passed … as I grew older with the Tree and the Boy. I can relate to both — and it hurts.