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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
just now finished this. Read with love and ignore typos please

“YOU’LL SEE” 8/30/12
© Vickey Stamps

The tree stood alone, but in reality in the middle of a mid-sized groove of other trees, each like the other. That is, if one didn’t look at the tree that felt as if it stood alone. In the language only trees understand, and when the winds blew or there was noise from the busy highway that lay a few hundred feet below, the trees would jeer and shake their leafs in an almost frightening manner at the tree.
In the center of the tree, and in its tree heart, inherited by a very handsome mother and father, now long gone, came soft tones of reassurance as if they still stood protectively beside the tree. “ Don’t let those words bother you. It will be okay. Just wait. ‘You’ll see!’ “
And so the tree withstood the pummeling punishing words that seemed to pound relentlessly against its bark. Sometimes the tree let its guard down and would shudder at how the words hurt it. It wanted to pull up its roots and move away. If only it could, and if only there was another place for it to run to. It couldn’t even bend its branches to bow its head, in an effort to … in part hide itself, and so it stood through the years.
For whatever reason, and which reason, we do not know, the tree was not what one would consider a thing of beauty, its bark did not reflect a fine pattern and its trunk was crippled, its branches and limbs gnarled, beginning to be that way, in the trees youth. Even leafs refused to grown in abundance. It had been called ugly more times than it could remember. Where some trees grew in stature and beauty, its’ trunk only twisted and grew heavier.
The other trees preened and spoke to each other in admiring voices, waving both limb and leaf, when a nice breeze passed by. Birds, squirrels, insects and other things that made their home within and on trees, paid minimal attention to the lonely tree. Life went on and the tree withstood life the best it could. The heart of it beat on, echoing more and more often ….”Hang on. Everything will be better one day. ‘You’ll see.’ “
Tree cutters had gathered to assess the groove of trees, for as progress had made its way to the nearby community having expanded to the very edge, the town had been decided to build a community of new homes where the trees stood. Unbeknown to the humans, the trees whispered among themselves as to what they might now become, each thinking itself much better than the other, and all thinking themselves much more handsome then the tree that stood alone. As lonely as it was, poor company was better than no company at all. In the evening before the cutting was to be done, the trees again jeered, shaking their leafs at the tree “Firewood!” they exclaimed. That is all you will be good for. “You’ll warm a home for a short time, than be nothing but ashes. “Firewood! Ugly old firewood!”. Saying so, and as best they could, they turned their back on the tree, and waiting for the coming of the new day, snug in their belief that nothing but good would be made from them.

And so the fine and pretty trees were cut and stacked upon the very large trucks which would take them to a place to make of them what had been decided. The tree cutters looked upon the one remaining tree, knowing it would not be likely to be made into a nice piece of furniture, or such things of that category. Now one came forward. I’d like to buy this tree. I am part owner of a paper factory in the next town. I think perhaps inside this old tree is a quality the outside does not show. So it came to be that the lonely tree was cut into pieces and loaded onto a big truck and delivered to the factory. It was almost a relief to the tree to know it would become paper and not be tossed into a fireplace to become ashes. At least it had a purpose and perhaps it was not so bad that it would not become furniture or frame a home, or some other thing of importance.
Again, it was pummeled, and pounded, but since it had known little else in its tree life, it did not mind so much. It was cut into much smaller pieces before being ground up and pressed together and ground up and pressed together, again and again. At last it rolled out on a long belt like thing, for the factory workers to exclaim over…this looks like a high quality paper. Call in the crew with the color technology. We’ll make something fine of this paper. It is better than any we’ve seen before. Now the lonely tree, now paper, could not help but preen itself, as it was colored and cut to sizing’s, parts becoming beautiful envelopes with fine edges with only the best of glues to hold it together, artists had both drawn tiny designs and pictures at the tops of the pretty papers, some had embossed the paper with designs, as had they yet more envelopes. Decorative packages held the sets together. A price for the high quality paper was set and the packages went out across the world.

“Oh my” thought the tree, I never thought to see all these places, or be so in demand. Surely I have been blessed. I wonder if that young lady saw me blush as she sprayed a bit of perfume upon the love letter she wrote on my surface, and when she kissed my envelope flap after sealing it, and when she marked it with the letters that meant ‘sealed with a kiss’. I’m to go all the way overseas to her sweetheart who’s in the service of his country. Whoever would have thought such a thing?
And so the old tree in its travels had many adventures. A special card with a letter tucked inside, came to the home of an old couple married many years. It got to see the smile and feel the old woman’s hands as she caressed its beautiful delicate surface. “Someone loves us a lot, Papa” she had said “to send us a wonderful card and a letter on such very special paper.”
There were many things the tree, now paper, would experience for many years. It was so happy and thought again, of the tree heart that had beat within it and spoken the words, “It’s going to be okay. Just wait and you’ll see!” The tree had come to know ….
LIFE WAS GOOD
 

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Discussion Starter · #5 ·
As those who have read my stories, I always hope you see my words often appear as a metaphor of more then is on the surface. I love to take something that cannot speak and give it a voice, and call to attention 'more then meets the eye'. I see people in the lonely and what is called ugly tree by others, as someone that is lovely of soul and more of quality than those that put them down. I know in real life there are those who feel better about themselves in having made another feel lesser. It is often for those 'put down people' I speak. I've been told my words suit my AKA of wordpainter. I am honored if that is indeed the case. HUGS and God Blesses to all of you out there.

Vickey Stamps
 
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