Oh tree, you are dead. You were such a good tree. I loved you very much. When my friend Mary gave you to me for my 21st birthday I was ecstatic. You were such a bright and hopeful little tree; you made me smile even on dark days. You sat on my counter and tried every day to be the best tree you could be. Sometimes I would forget to water you, but still you would persevere in your efforts to be my favorite little tree.
Then when we remodeled the dining room, you had to be moved away from the dust and fumes and the men in the steel-toed boots. It was supposed to be a beneficial move for you; one that would keep you safe and healthy. But somehow you ended up in a forgotten corner behind a stack of boxes. You waited patiently for me to find you - to water you, care for you, and love you as I had in the past. You waited a day, a week, two weeks, maybe more. You waited as long as you could, little tree. I know you didn't give up easily. You certainly must have kept fighting until the very end because you knew how devastated I would be if you didn't make it, so you stayed alive just as long as you could. But my ignorance and forgetfulness were much more longstanding than your ability to stay alive in an environment with no water and very little sunlight. And so now you are gone.
I am sorry, tree. Sorry that I ever forgot to water you. Sorry that sometimes I would leave you sitting on the living room windowsill when it was much too cold outside for you to be there. Sorry that you were placed in a lonely, dark corner in the den to suffer a slow and painful death. I am sorry for all these things. You were too good a tree for me to deserve you. I hope to one day find another tree that will withstand my erratic watering and trimming habits with half your patience and good grace.
Goodbye, my little tree. You will be dearly missed.