Christmas Tree

I don’t quite remember which day it was, but I think it was last Monday, January 12th.
I was walking along 11th St SE, at the corner with D St, when I noticed one of those Christmas trees. It was lying on the sidewalk, half-covered by the remains of snow from the previous night. It looked at me, pleading. I had never realized that Christmas trees could look us in the eye. I stopped. I looked at the tree too—not sure where exactly, but I looked—and sat down beside it on the curb.

The tree thanked me and asked, in its dying voice, if I had time to hear its life story. It assured me it would be short. After all, it was a Christmas tree.

— Of course — I felt compelled to say. “How could one deny a last attention to the dying?” I thought.

The tree began its story:

— I still didn’t know what life was when, one day, I heard the noise of a machine and saw my playmates falling and being wrapped in mesh and stacked onto a truck. I heard the machine getting closer and felt something at my foot. I screamed loudly, begging to be left in peace, but nothing—no one answered me. In an instant, I was on the ground, wrapped in mesh, and loaded onto the truck.

The load of trees, like me, kept growing. When they thought the truck was full, off we went.

The journey lasted several hours, and night had already fallen when we began to see countless lights in the distance—so many lights. What sky was that? The sky I knew also had many lights at night, but never as many as these. And they kept multiplying, brighter and bigger. And people, so many people. I had never seen such a crowd. In our mountain, from time to time someone would pass by, sometimes patting us gently before continuing their way. Yes, we saw many animals, especially birds, who rested on our branches, and some of us were even lucky enough to become their homes. I never had that luck.

The truck stopped. They started pulling us off… and standing us upright?! But then—why had they cut us down and brought us here? Why cut me at all?

I realized I was in the city. The city was beautiful, with its big, multicolored lights, some flashing on and off… And so many people moving in every direction. I sometimes felt dizzy just watching. And the large shop windows? All decorated so beautifully, with children pressing their noses against the glass to look inside?

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place after all. So much more movement than my mountain. And the children? I loved it when they lingered near me, begging their parents to take me home. But… take me where? Wasn’t this my place?

Why had they cut me down?

Until one day, a family actually did take me. They wrapped me again—I suppose to protect my branches—tied me to the roof of their car, and off we went. I liked seeing new things, but it was becoming too many journeys. Still, maybe this was my fate: to travel?

We arrived at a house. This very one, behind me now.

They carried me into the living room and stood me proudly in a special place. From where I was, I could see everything happening in the house. I was at the center of this family’s attention. If this was why they had cut me down, well, it wasn’t so bad after all—to be part of a human family.

But the best part, I didn’t yet know, was still to come. The family brought out cardboard boxes filled with ornaments, lights, and other objects, so beautiful and colorful. The whole family gathered around me, hanging them from my branches. I could see myself in the big mirror on the wall across from me. What delight! How beautiful I looked! And when they switched on the lights—oh, I’ll never forget that moment. I felt so much warmth and affection from them all.

The following days were just as wonderful. They placed brightly wrapped gifts with ribbons at my feet. I felt almost like a goddess. Surrounded by the family, with gifts at my feet… What more could a simple young tree like me desire?

The days went on. Sometimes, less often, they placed more wrapped gifts at my feet. The little ones came running, excited, trying to guess what was inside. Some even tucked them further under my branches so no one else could see. Only I could see. How happy I was in those days.

Then one day, the entire family gathered around me again. How happy they were that day! And I, of course, was just as happy. To be at the center of it all, to have everyone around me—what joy…

But what time was it?

Bedtime for the children? By then they should have been asleep.

“Yay!” shouted the children. “Let’s open the presents!”

Open the presents? But the presents are mine. You placed them at my feet. They’re mine. I should be the one to open them.

Nobody paid me any mind. They distributed the gifts among themselves and celebrated while unwrapping them. They were so delighted tearing into my boxes. And those ribbons? Oh, what they did to those ribbons…

They opened them all. Not a single one left for me. I would have been content with just one. The smallest would have sufficed. But no, nothing remained. That night, all that was left at my feet was a pile of crumpled, colorful paper and a few ribbons scattered on the floor.

The next day, no one came near me. They only picked up the leftover paper and ribbons.

In the days that followed, no one came close. Not even the children… And they had always come first thing in the morning, rushing to peek at the gifts. But there were no gifts anymore.

More days passed, and nobody cared for me anymore. My only joy was the twinkling lights on my branches.

Until one day, they came again with the cardboard boxes. My branches trembled… Was I to be the center of the family once more?

No, no, please, don’t take these little ornaments off me. They’re part of me now. No, please, leave the lights; they are my joy in the night… Please, leave the star on top of my head. It looks so good with my green…

But no one heard me. Or maybe they pretended not to. They stripped me bare. They robbed me of all my ornaments. I had never felt so naked.

That night, I remained inside the house, stripped of everything, in the dark, with no lights and no starry sky.

The next day, they placed me out here…

Last night, it snowed. I am no longer used to the cold, and I don’t know what awaits me now. I feel my life fading away.

Please, stay with me just a little longer.

Luis Bramao
Washington, DC
January 2016