When I was young, I was happy in this life. I was always told that I was blessed to be part of this family and to grow up in our line of work. You see, we were Christmas Trees! Our family had a long heritage in this field, on the very land where I was planted and grew. My parents were so proud to be carrying on the family tradition of keeping the importance of Christmas, and the birth of Christ, alive in the hearts of men. It was holy and blessed to do this work. I fell asleep at night to stories of colorful lights and beautiful ornaments that would adorn my branches. Also, of the families that would sit nearby singing and opening gifts to celebrate their love for one another. When I was young, this was enough.

From the forest where we lived, I could see a meadow across the way. The sun shone brightly in this meadow as the wildflowers that adorned it swayed happily in the wind. The colors of the flowers were so beautiful, and one day the thought hit me, ‘Here I am stuck in the dark, dank forest. It isn’t fair. I would like to have the sun on my branches and sway in the wind like the flowers’. That was the first time the dark ooze of envy made its way from my head into my heart. From this point on, I was no longer happy in my home. Each day, I would watch those lucky flowers basking in the sun, while very little of that warmth ever reached my branches. I started to hate the overshadowing branches of my parents that used to feel so protective.