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They are not Gone

Story ID:10781
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Story
Writers Conference:My Favorite Holiday Story
Location:Caldwell Idaho USA
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They are just trees.
They grow; they die.

We chop them down and burn them for warmth in the winter. They provide colors in the
fall …shades of green during the summer.

They are just trees …shade to keep us cool.

Forest fires take millions of them every year.

Who cares? They are just trees.

We strip them from the land to build houses …leaving a wasted land.

We use their bodies for furniture, bridges and decorations.

They are just trees.

Christmas comes. Millions of trees are taken before they reach their prime.
Sawed from their base, they are displayed for show and taken away…their life cut short.

Families decorate them. Bright lights make them shine. They were in their prime.
For a few weeks, they shared their beauty, their shining moment with a family. Their decorations
made them sparkle. People stared at them and smiled.

After the season, the trees gathered together in a landfill, tossed away.

They are the forgotten.

Once prized, but now trash.

The trees talked to each other. “I had a wonderful Christmas. There was a little
boy who sat and stared at me for hours.”

“Me too,” another tree said. “Mine was a little girl. She came to me every day
and stared at me. I remember her crawling under me to find her presents. I miss her”

The conversation continued.
Trees, tossed to the side, living their final moment.

But those trees from years ago are not gone. They live in the memories of the children
who admired them.

They are not gone.

Michael T. Smith