10432 Xavier HS pages

time brush up against him. “What do you want?” The tree asked. He
felt the movement of tiny claws moving up and up his trunk. “Shel-
ter, I wish to make this place my home.” The high-pitched voice fi-
nally answered after its movement ceased. The tree pondered. I
shouldn’t just give up my shelter to just anybody, but this creature is
in need of assistance. I shall do my best to take care of it and offer it
hospitality. “I’ve decided to allow you to stay.” The tree called out
proudly. “Well, I mean it’s not like you could do much to stop me,”
the high pitched voice responded. The tree thought blankly for a
moment. That’s true, he concluded. There was really not much he
could do if anything. “There is a hollow in my trunk a few branches
above you, make yourself home there.” He called out. He heard an
exhale and a sniffle, then rabid climbing until the creature finally
reached the hollow. It walked in and stretched, eventually giving out
a little yawn, and laid down. “What is your name?” The tree asked.
“I’m actually trying to sleep right now…” replied the voice. “That’s
an odd name,” the tree said. A few moments went by and he even-
tually heard a sigh. “My name is Coco.” The voice said, finally re-
vealing its identity. “Hello Coco!” The tree hummed excitedly.
“What type of creature are you?” The trees’ interest started building.
As he stated before, he was known to enjoy a good conversation. He
waited for an answer as he heard more sniffling. “I am a squirrel, and
if you don’t mind I need rest.” Coco sounded a bit more annoyed
than before. “Very well,” said the tree. “You can always just say
anything if you wish to talk.” No response. Hours passed and the old
tree found himself once again in deep thought. It was only the fee-
ling of Coco’s feet running down his trunk did he find himself back
into reality. He must’ve gone out to collect food, the tree thought.
He waited about thirty minutes until he felt Coco’s feet running up
the trunk. When Coco ran back into his hole the tree called out

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“Good morning.” Coco sniffed and then snorted. “Good morning?
Why is it good? Do you even have a concept of morning and nighti-
me? You can’t even see.” The tree chuckled to himself. “Of course I
can see, though it’s true I have no eyes. I see by sense. I feel the light
piercing the darkness and bringing warmth to the earth. I can feel
when the snow flutters from the clouds and piles up at my roots, and
I can feel when the snow thaws and the fresh green grass rises from
the earth. And the morning is good because it brings warmth and
essence to the creatures of the world.” A pause follows after the tree
says this. Coco sneezes. “Nothing in this world is good. The mor-
ning just lets us know we’re a day closer to death. A day closer to the
end.” Now instead of a chuckle, the tree let out a full-blown laugh.
“The end? There is no end dear Coco. Just change.” Coco sneezed
again and sat down. “But not all change is good… dear Tree.” Coco
said. The tree stopped then responded. “Perhaps not for everyone.
But within all change is good.” Coco sneezed and then coughed.
The tree couldn’t help but notice how cute and high pitched they are.
“I disagree,” Coco sighed. “I was caught outside in the rain yester-
day, and now I feel sick. Every time a second passes and the time
changes, I feel myself growing sicker. How is this good? What if it
worsens and I die?” The tree sighed in his head as he felt the wind
whisper in between his branches. “Then you die.” The tree said
blankly. Coco laughed. “Ha, see there is no good, only death.” The
tree only chuckled at this. “What are you laughing at?” Coco asked.
The tree responded almost immediately. “Sure your death isn’t good
for you, but think of the meal you’ll provide for scavengers or the
decomposers that will turn your body back into earth. For them you
are doing good.” Coco sneezed again. “But it’s not good for me
though? What good does it do the world?” He coughed again, this
time the tree felt wetness come from Coco’s cough. “Do you always

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need to experience itself to see the good in the world?” The tree
asked. Coco sighed. “I guess not. But I fear death.” The tree under-
stood what he was talking about. He looked back upon his many li-
fetimes and recalled his thoughts of death. Fear flooded into his
mind. So many rationales to make the end seem brighter, to make it
seem less unknown. “Death is not the end though, simply a new
beginning. With death comes life, and with life comes death. Popu-
lations increase and decrease, the world simply changes.” Coco cou-
ghed again once the tree stopped talking, this time louder and wetter.
“But I fear my death will be a bad and painful one, and I don’t want
it to end yet.” Coco curled up into a ball and sighed. The tree waited
a moment then said “Well this is the reality of life. Not all deaths are
pleasant. Not all deaths are dignified. But do not fear the end. Thou-
gh your flesh and blood might rot your soul is eternal. You will live
many lives.” Coco picked his head up. “Have you lived many lives
tree?” He sniffled again. The tree glowed. “Yes, would you like me
to tell you about them? It’s all I think about each day.” Coco put his
head back down and sniffled again. “Yes, I’d like that.” That night
the tree whispered Coco stories of his past as nocturnal noises called
out distantly throughout the night. The moon casted her heavenly
light upon the forest until she slept, and let the sun take her place.
Coco stretched and yawned at the sight of dawn break. He stood up
and immediately coughed. “Are you okay?” The tree asked. Coco
just ran out of the hole and down the bark. “Good morning!” He
called out. The tree chuckled happily to himself. He sat peacefully
and recalled his life as a beetle. Flying through the air and eating
lettuce leaves in this old woman’s garden. She hated the beetles who
took refuge in her garden. She poisoned us and cheered when we
passed. So life goes. Suddenly Coco appeared back at his hollow
again and coughed violently. He dropped an acorn on the ground

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and started nibbling on it. “How do trees speak?” Coco asked with
half of the acorn in his mouth. “Through vibrations and pheromo-
nes, why did you think you could only speak to trees when touching
them?” Coco swallowed his acorn and sniffled, “I don’t know, I’ve
never thought about it, I just accepted it.” The tree chuckled. “Well
acceptance is any important step in facing death.” Coco moaned, “It
always comes back to death with you doesn’t it?” The tree hummed
in agreement. Coco shook his head then looked outside the hallow
and up towards the sky. “I worry that I haven’t done all that I’ve
needed to before death. I worry my life is a waste.” The tree stopped
humming. “All we must do with our time in life is all we choose to,
there is no set list. Every conversation, every action, every move-
ment you make in life is worthwhile and meaningful. You could
choose to do good, you could choose to do bad, you can choose to
do nothing, there is no right option.” Coco sniffled and sneezed. “I
can choose everything but my death.” The tree began humming
again. “So life goes. Time, change, and death will never stop. All
you can do is spend your remaining time doing what you can.” Coco
sighed then picked up the other half of his acorn. He nibbled it and
continued staring out the hallow, listening to the tree hum. Soon the
sun began to set. Coco coughed violently and the tree felt a splash of
wetness on him. Coco gasped, then began crying. “Are you okay?”
The tree asked. No response. Then he heard Coco stop crying. “I am
dying. I’ve just coughed up blood and I sense no escape from this
sickness. No miracle from God. I’m afraid, even though you’ve told
me everything I’m afraid. I accept death but I still fear it.” The tree
sighed. “Well that’s normal, it’s alright to be afraid. Just know that
life won’t stop and the world will keep moving, your death will
change the world, just as your life did.” Coco sniffed and sighed. “I
know, I just hope I come back as something cool.” The tree felt a

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gentle breeze flow between his branches. The sun felt especially be-
autiful today. Coco wheezed again and shuddered. “I fear my time is
running out, I need to spend my final moments outside.” The tree
grew sad, but he understood. “I understand my friend. I’m glad we
were able to bond.” The squirrel rubbed his head on the wall of the
hollow. “I’m glad too.” Then the tree felt his little feet walk out the
hallow and down his trunk. Coco reached the roots before he stop-
ped and coughed. The tree felt liquid splatter along his roots and the
ground around it, then Cocos body slumped to the floor. The old tree
mourned his friend. He listened and felt the world change. He pon-
dered with his thoughts as days ended and the nights began. He li-
stened to the bugs chew and the organisms devour Coco’s body back
into earth. He felt the flowers grow out of the earth stained with
Coco’s blood. With death came life. The cycle continued, just as the
old tree said.

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