The winter holidays were finally over and I decided to take down the little fir tree and carry it out to the bin. It was starting to shed its needles and I had no wish to sweep up every day.
At Christmas I had enjoyed the beauty and the scent of the tree and I reckoned that was enough for me. No sooner said than done.
I stepped out of the stairwell of the block of flats and headed for the rubbish skip. Outside it had begun to snow, with big flakes that spun as they fell, like playful little stars.
Around the skip, a heap of fir trees. They lay there, broken, stripped of their decorations, dried out, in a truly pitiful state.
I threw my little fir tree on the pile too and turned to leave.
• Look at them, how they throw us away! shouted a little fir tree that had been there for some time.
At that moment I thought I heard something. I looked to the left... nothing. I looked to the right... nothing. I was alone in the street. I told myself... that perhaps I had been dreaming. I was about to walk back towards the block when I heard again:
• They don't even care that we are dying. They enjoyed themselves for a few days and then they destroy us, they throw us away without mercy.
This time it was real. I had heard it loud and clear. I looked towards the skip and spotted the indignant one.
• They decorate us with all kinds of baubles, tinsel and chocolate, they rejoice on Christmas Eve and then they throw us away! the others chimed in.
I decided to go into the stairwell and listen to the little fir trees' conversation.
• Let me tell you how I ended up here! When I was just a tiny seed, a gust of wind threw me out of the little house where I lived (my mother's cone). It carried me high up, among the clouds, took me on a journey through the forests and set me down first on a plain. But I didn't like it there. There was too much sun, and I no longer had my brothers, the little fir trees, beside me. I was suffering and I begged the wind to take me somewhere else, higher up, next to my friend the spruce.
The wind took pity on me and heard my plea. That is how I came to my new home. Here, in favourable conditions, I grew tall and became sturdy. I was the pride of the forest. People came to walk, to enjoy the green grass, and they marvelled when they caught sight of me. The years went by and I kept growing stronger.
But this winter the sad event happened. A child came to the forest with his father to choose a Christmas tree. They wandered around for a while and when their eyes fell on me, I knew I had met my end.
The child shouted:
• Daddy, daddy, I want this one! I'll hang lots of baubles on it and make it beautiful, and Father Christmas will bring me lots of presents.
They cut me down without mercy and left me so small that I could fit into their home. Then they dressed me in festive clothes. I was truly beautiful and I was proud of myself once again. In the evenings I showed off in the window with my little lights and all my riches. But after a few days my needles began to fall and I became a nuisance to the people. They decided to throw me in the bin. I was of use to them for as long as they needed me. The rest... no longer matters! the little fir tree finished its tale.
I hurried up the stairs, went into the house, went to my son and told him:
• Next year, son, we'll go and get an artificial tree.
• But why, daddy?
• Because that one can be beautiful too, just as beautiful as one from the forest. But above all, it will not suffer when it is cut down and brought into the house only to be thrown in the bin afterwards. We'll be able to keep it for many years, it won't make a mess, and the magic of Christmas will be just the same.
And in summer, when we go for a walk, we'll be able to enjoy the shade of the forest, the clean air and the song of the birds, and we will be all the richer for it.
The child's eyes filled with tears. He understood why I had told him these things and he knew that this way would be better.
