Day 65: 11 January 2026

 Short Story -- The Giving Tree: Part 1

There once was a fir tree at the edge of a forest on the edge of a village.

It wasn’t the tallest or the widest fir tree in the forest. Those titles were reserved for fir trees deeper in. But it stood straight and it had strong branches.

But this was a special fir tree to all of the villagers, because for all of their lives — even the oldest, most bent over members whose hands had been gnarled by hard work and age — this particular tree had served as the Giving Tree.

What is a Giving Tree? You might be wondering. After all, not every village or town or city has one. It is a place where, for the cold, dark winter days of December and January, people leave what they can and take what they need. And there’s no fear of judgement or need for reciprocity. It’s simply there to help out when the days are short and the nights are long.

This particular Giving Tree was much loved and respected by its villagers. The tree had witnessed many things and held on to numerous wishes and hopes and pains and stories. For often, although not always, when something was being left or taken the individual would talk to the tree. The villagers knew that their secrets were safe with the Giving Tree. For who could a tree tell?

Many, many years later, when the once youngest girl in the village was now quite old herself, her great great granddaughter was staying with her. The little girl had bright, intelligent eyes, like her great great grandmother, and was full of wonder and curiosity. The village felt different from the city where she was growing up.

‘Grandmother,’ the girl asked looking up from the paper where she was drawing a tree she’d seen earlier that day while they’d been out her crayons strewn about the little coffee table. The tree was covered in cookies and mittens and hats and coal and books and so many other things; and it had a popcorn garland and dried oranges and a myriad of other interesting baubles and knickknacks tucked in its branches. ‘Tell me about the tree at the edge of the forest. Please.’

The great great grandmother smiled warmly at her youngest great great grandchild. She smiled warmly because of her love for the little one and also because of her love for the tree.

‘It’s called the Giving Tree,’ she started with a voice that was gentle but strong. ‘And I can’t tell you about all of the people it’s helped and saved over the years, but I can tell you how it’s helped and saved me.’

And she started telling her story…