Me, The Tree

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That tree that you stare at, the tree in the window, that tree is you.

So you say. But how can I possibly be a tree. A tree so tall and strong when little me is standing here talking to you.

It’s a good question actually, I would of thought the same thing if by chance someone were to call me a tree. But alas, you are you, and I am me. And It is you who is the tree. So we stand and stare, pondering our situation. Until he looks at me. Yes it is a he. Anyhow, he looks at me and says;

Well yes, I may be the tree. If I think about it, it all makes sense.

Well I was taken aback by his remark. Here I am telling her, yes it is a her. That she is a tree, and here we are telling ourselves that it all makes sense. It doesn’t make sense to me, and it is me who is the tree. Yes you may be confused by this sudden change of scenery, I will explain.

He and she are both in fact me, and I am the tree.

I stare at myself in the window of that house everyday, who am I. I who stands so tall and strong. How can I be a tree, when I feel like me.

Well, I say to him, and her, and me the tree. I think it’s all a matter of perspective. You see tree, I feel like me, and if I am in fact a tree, I guess, in all, it makes sense for me to feel like a tree. If in fact, I am one.

Well that does make sense, says me. But what if I feel sad. How can a tree like me, so tall and strong, feel sad about the fact I am not a he, or a she, but instead a tree.

Well, yes that does make sense. If you are a tree who wants to be a he or a she but is in fact a tree, you would be sad, thought he.

But what about all the other things you have to be sad about, like your leaves. Said she.

I did ponder this question in great detail. Me, the tree, did once have leaves. But as I questioned me as a tree, it seemed they questioned themselves as leaves. I guess we all had to think about this important question. After this question, me the tree, had no leaves to speak of. They did indeed think that she or maybe he, were not leaves at all.

So yes, to answer your question she. I do feel sad for my leaves, as they felt the same as me, said tree.

So we sat or stood, or however we chose, and we pondered. Until we all said; me the tree, who stands so tall and strong, may not be a tree. As much of a tree as the leaves believed they were leaves. But, as you asked in our first conversation. A conversation about the possiblity of me being a tree. I am me, only NAMED Tree.

A piece I wrote about finding who you are, you may not feel the same way as you see yourself. The same way Tree felt as he looked at his strong appearance, he neither felt tall or strong, but could not find the words to describe himself. In the end, he IS Tree, worthy of more than he or she.

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