Breaktime!

I was cleaning a large, new suburban house today before the new owners moved in their furniture. You know the kind of house I'm talking about, right? Cavernous, done up with nice, quirky paint on the inside; the kind of house that, even when it's dirty feels a little too clean; the kind of house where each of the three kids each gets their own personalized room to put their own personal TV and Playstation 3. I was wandering around, tired of wiping up crusty kool-aid from the floor of the fridge. I was looking around the huge empty living room, wondering just how big a couch you would need to make the room look normal, when I broke down and said: I need a break.

I went outside and sat down on the nice new deck and looked at the poor little trees just sitting there in the shadow of these monster houses. There was one scraggly tree, the biggest of the bunch, that had little cherry looking fruits dangling everywhere. Those fruits should have been eaten by someone or something by this time of year. I was feeling bad for myself, and bad for the tree, and just then I heard a voice.
"Please stop looking at me." It was the tree. I could tell because it was waving, but there was no wind.
"Stop looking at you? Why?"
"Don't you know? Trees don't like to be looked at when they're alone."
"But you're not alone. Look, you have two little guys right next to you."
"But I am alone, because I know I'm the best tree in the neighborhood."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know I'm the biggest.", the tree shook a little like it was sobbing.
"That doesn't make you the best, though."
"That's how it is with us trees: the biggest is the best and the best is the loneliest. That's why we like being in forests, because no-one can tell who the biggest is because everyone is all crowded together."
"Why does being the best make you feel lonely? It should make you feel proud."
"But that's why I feel lonely, because I'm the only one who knows how great our little group of trees is. I'm lonely because I'm proud of us, and there's no-one to tell."
"Well, you just told me."
"Yeah. But you don't count. You're not a tree."
"That's true. Why don't you tell the houses? They used to be trees."
"I can't tell these types of houses anything. Just look at them, you can barely tell one board from another, and there are no big logs jutting out anywhere. They don't even look like wood with all that paint on them."
"Actually, you're pointing at some vinyl siding, but I see what you mean. We didn't used to build houses like this. We used to build log cabins and stuff."
"Oh, don't remind me. Those were the good old days, when a tree would beg the woodcutter to use him for the central beam."
"So I guess humans used to be more important to you guys than they are now."
"Yes. But ever since you started using us to make these crappy houses, we decided you weren't worth much after all."
"I can't blame you, but maybe I can try to correct you a little. We aren't really acting like humans when we do that sort of stuff. We're acting more like demons or something else that's evil and cold. Humans are still really great, it's just there aren't that many humans around anymore."
"Why should I believe you?", I think the tree made a sniffle noise with some of its leaves, or maybe a squirell was swishing around where I couldn't see him.

(To be continued)