The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

While I was unpacking and setting up the office in my new apartment, I came across "The Giving Tree" by Shel Silverstein. It took me back in time, standing in front of twenty pairs of anticipating six- and seven-year olds, wondering why I couldn't read the simple children's book without tears pooling in my own eyes.
The book is about a tree, a boy, and their relationship over time. It is about longing and desire, pain and selfless love. It is about giving every ounce of yourself and never losing sight of why you gave in the first place. But, it's also about realizing that, in the end, all the things you strive for might not hold as much promise as you put in them.
The tree, as the title implies, is a giving one, and it gave everything of itself from leaves to make a crown to fruit to eat to its trunk to make a boat for the boy to attempt to run away from his misfortune. Finally, however, the boy comes back a changed being. He wants nothing more from the tree- which is a stump now- but to sit and rest his weary bones. "'Well,' said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, 'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.' And the boy did. And the tree was happy."
So, what is it about this simple, children's book that makes it hard to read without lumps forming in one's throat? It might be that, as I sat looking at its words and pictures, I wondered back over my own life. Pursuing what I thought would make me happy, overlooking people I shouldn't be, and garnering possessions in hopes of reaching the plateau of happiness and success. I realized who the "giving" trees were in my life and how ashamedly-similar the boy's actions were to mine. Maybe- just maybe- that's why the book has such an impact on me...in it are painful lessons for me...lessons, but also a warning to pay more attention to those who matter most and reciprocate their selfless love.
Instead of storing the book on the bookshelf, I put it on my desk, there to always act as a reminder whenever I begin to sweat the small stuff. There to remind me that life shouldn't always be about taking...that the source of giving is more important than what is given. To remind me to cherish the source and not the gift.
The lessons of the story might have been lost on my young class, but, I'm sure, with time they, too, will come to understand. Until then, whenever I get a chance, I will read them the story in hopes that if any of them is ever at the same juncture in life as I am, the book's magic will work for them, too. Then I'll be happy.