Motivation

Photo credit A Writer Darkly The giving tree had had enough. He had tolerated pickings, and carvings, and cuttings, but 2020? That shiz was wack. In the year to beat all years, Tree watched Boy go from having an active social life to being quarantined inside with his wife - his days spent staring longingly out the window. Tree wondered what future atrocities Boy was dreaming of performing on him. A swing? Tree could unwittingly hypnotize the rest of the forest. A hammock? Tree would never hear the end of needing a net to keep his nuts from hitting the ground. A treehouse? Like an infestation of lice living in homes made from the bones of his family. Tree was slowly losing his grip. He only had one thing to give. At noon on a Monday, as the couple looked out the window, the wind ru...