Dear Shel Silverstein,

As an author of children’s books, I’m sure that you can easily picture a child under the covers, way after their bedtime, with a flashlight, reading. I must admit, that I was always one of those children, but never quite so bad until after reading The Giving Tree. I would read that book over and over, until it was time for bed, and then I’d read it again, when I knew my parents had gone to sleep. It was by far my favorite book, and I never felt the need to put it down.

Maybe it was because of the love and care this book demonstrated to me, or the thought put into it, but somehow, The Giving Tree really, truly touched me. Even as a second grader. When I was little, I always thought so far ahead into the future. What did I want to do when I grew up? When was I going to get married, if ever? What kind of house did I want? What about pets? I was in such a hurry to grow up. Then I read your book.

At first it was simply a story that was fun to read. But then I started asking myself questions. Questions like “what if I went too fast and forgot about the ones that I love?”  and “will I ever be so selfish?” The thoughts hurt my little seven-year-old brain. But each time I turned the page, and each time I read over the words written on those pages, I would hit slow down on my life a little more. After a while I even asked the question “what is my giving tree?” I decided to hunt down the answer, because I had nothing better to do.

It started out with me thinking about my sister. I hadn’t had her all my life, though. She was missing three and half years, so she didn’t fit the puzzle. My parents were the next step in the search. For a long time I thought about how much I could tell them, but the fact I had a diary for things that I wasn’t sure I could confide in them for, told me they weren’t my giving trees. Then I remembered every time I wanted to tell someone something in my diary, which obviously couldn’t be my giving tree, I went straight to my old Border Collie, Patches. She always listened, or at least gave the impression, and she couldn’t tell any of my secrets, seeing as she was a dog. Lastly, and the final step in my reasoning, is she gave love back, 100 percent unconditionally. Never was anything asked from me in return, except for a pat on the head or two, and some food every now and then. Just like in your book, I recalled the tree never asked for anything but to be showed love. If I wasn’t interested in Patches at the current moment, she knew I would be eventually, and I always came back to her. My dog Patches was my giving tree.

That’s why when she died in late August 2005, I was absolutely devastated. I cried for the longest time, thinking about how I always trusted in her, no matter what. Then, I remembered your book. I read it through several times, each world slowly, but surely, comforting me a little more. Rereading The Giving Tree made me remember all the things I shared, and all the fun times with my dog. She was always there whenever someone else faded out. After a few weeks, and reading your book over and over, I was brought back around, and off again on some random adventure a twelve-year-old finds. I still remember her, though. Even though it’s been a couple years since she died, I still talk to her. I have two fairly new puppies that I love and cherish, but they really aren’t my giving trees. Every now and then, I’ll go back and read your book, and I’ll remember her, and send out a quick prayer. Even though my tree has gone and passed, I still find it important that everyone has their own. After I read your book, even at age seven, I knew I had to find my giving tree. Everyone else should find theirs too.

Yours truly,

Nikki Wray

 

9th Grade
A.J. Dimond High School, Anchorage, Alaska
Teacher:  Rebecca Norsworthy