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| Meenakshi Mohan |
The
Giving Tree: Two Perspectives
(Based
on Shell Silverstein’s Book, The Giving Tree)
Scenario
One: His Story
The rain had
stopped.
He walked to the
window with his cane, slumped,
and looked out -- a
stump of a tree glistened
buffed with the
last night’s rain.
The stump sat
alone in the midst of the lush, green
vibrancy of the
fruit trees around it.
He wondered if he
was like that stump --
once mighty, leafy,
loaded with fruits,
family and friends
swirled around him
like bees around
beehives.
Today, bereft of his branches, leaves, and
fruits,
he is alone in his
bare minimum abode --
a silent witness
to life’s desolate blow.
He looked at his
wall –
beautiful memories
of yesteryears
peeked through the
frames.
He sat down on his
rocking chair
gingerly placing
the cane next to him,
a weary spirit
lost and lone –
life dragged on in
an encumbrance shackle.
He thought of the
beautiful life he had,
and took a deep
breath and sighed.
Shell Silverstein
sighed
from his pages of
the Giving Tree.
***
Scenario
two: Her Story
The rain had
stopped.
She walked to the
window
and opened it to
get some air.
A fresh whip of
cool breeze tousled her silver hair.
She looked out at
the fresh vibrancy of nature --
trees dancing in
the wind,
colorful flowers
blossoming,
rainbow-colored
butterflies hovering around.
An apple tree
stump
sat alone from the
lush plants and foliage.
It glistened with
last night’s rain and
sparked its beauty
like an ancient sculpture.
As she
meditatively admired nature's beauty, freshness, and liveliness,
she heard a knock
on the door. She opened the door, and
a little visitor stood
there with a plate,
“My mother baked
some fresh cookies today. She has sent some for you.”
She smiled and
thanked him.
The little boy,
who frequently visited her, requested,
“Could you please
read me the story from one of your children’s books?”
“Yes, of course,
please come in,” she chirped.
They had chocolate
milk and cookies while she read the book.
After the story,
he wanted to know about the pictures on the wall.
She told him about
her parents, childhood, husband, children, and grandchildren.
Before he left, he
politely asked, “May I come back again to listen to another story?” She nodded,
“Yes,” with a smile.
This little
visitor was like a breath of fresh air.
She walked to the
window again.
The stump of the
Apple tree was no longer lonely.
Neighborhood children
were sitting on top of it,
playing games.
Some had decorated the edges of the stump with flowers.
She thought she
would take her granddaughter there to play.
She smiled at Shel
Silverstein’s book, The Giving Tree.
Shel Silverstein winked a naughty smile through its pages.
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