“But, why?” The little tree asked tearily to it’s mother, “Why does that person want to cut you down! It’s not fair, it’s horrible, it’s-” but his mother interrupted him, “We have told you before, Little One; every year some of us must go, but in their places new trees will grow, and someday, you yourself will be taken away, but only to a family that will make you warm and hang beautiful things on your branches,”
The tears spilled over onto his face and clung to his lashes. She said through a sob, “I don’t want to go, not ever! And I don’t want you to go!”
“Shhhh...” said his mother, stroking lovingly the new, soft tendrils of green escaping the brown of his bark. She took a moment, and then said, “That’s what I once thought, but then I found out where we go when we are taken away from the forest; we go to families who celebrate something called Christmas by putting gifts wrapped in colors under their tree, and hanging stars and mini presents on its limb. They give it water and warmth until the season ends, when they lay it out on the snow to rest,”
Her son sniffed and his lips puckered, but rested his head on his mother’s chest. He said in a tiny little voice, “I still don’t think that it’s fair,”
“I know. But you will understand. And you know that I will always love you, wherever I am. It will take many years for you to grow as big as me, but you will be a big, strong tree, and then you’ll understand,”
The two of them, the mother and the son rested there in each other’s company for a good long time, before the time came. The little tree sniffed and cried, and watched her go away, just managing to say, “I love, you, Mom,”
“I love you, too,” He heard over the wind.