![image for the Gift story.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/agmoore/23zkvwVyBGWSBghPSeMJJpffYRuHUxbCpJcn5QTCKvEQhmNBYMv2A11ymFf8s65vvFCj5.png)


He'd learned to live with the endless sand, with digging for a few drops of water. He'd even grown accustomed to the sight of emaciated animals.   But the solitude was unbearable. Each day it weighed more heavily on him.    

He was alone.

He would wake at dawn and search the landscape for a break in the monotony.  He would look for a shadow, the suggestion of a human form. Sometimes he thought, maybe that's a person.  But always it was a mirage.

This morning the isolation was especially cruel. 

He kept a calendar, and marked it every night. A meaningless exercise because all days were the same. But today... He looked at the date. December 25.

"It's Christmas."  His voice was soft, and despairing. He fell to his knees with a crushing anguish. 

Another Christmas alone.  

How many Christmases had there been, since *The Event*?  How many New Years, Easters?  

"I can't face it anymore.  I won't.   Not another year, another week, another day. I'm tired of digging for water, scrounging for roots that barely sustain me. I give up. Not fighting anymore."

Elijah swung back the flap of his tent and lifted his eyes to scan the seamless stretch of sand. 

He gasped.  

"What is that?  A tree branch?"  

It was in fact an evergreen branch, what appeared to be the remnant of a Christmas tree.

"Where did it come from?"

He scoured the landscape, but didn't question any further the improbable gift.  He grasped it, embraced it.  This was the first bit of green he had seen in years.  He didn't care if the appearance of the branch was magic, or an illusion.  He accepted the bounty.

He returned to his tent and searched for something with which he could adorn the tree.  Memories flooded him, of Christmases past, of family, and glittering trees. Of decorations and gaudily colored boxes.

"Ah, that's it.  Perfect!" He'd unearthed a small doll, a toy that had been crafted in the likeness of a baby.

"Not a baby," he exclaimed.  "An angel!"  He dug a deep hole in the sand and secured the branch in its depths. 

The branch was rather tall, taller than he had first thought.  For Elijah, this piece of greenery was not merely a branch.  It was a tree--green, and abundant.  At least five feet tall. He placed the baby angel on top and stood back in admiration.  

"Beautiful.  Yes, Christmas."  

He extracted a bit of water from deep in a sand dune and shared that water with his tree.  As he nourished the tree he quieted the stitch in his belly by gnawing on a root.  Then he lay down in the shadow of the tent, next to the tree.  For the first time in years he napped with joy in his heart, instead of despair.

When Elijah woke it was to the sound of muttering. 

"Voices? Human voices?"

Or an illusion, like the tree.

There were two of them, covered in dust, torn clothes.

"Where did you get it?" one of them asked him.

"It just came to me, this morning," Elijah answered. Was he mad, talking to an illusion?   Or was that a human?

"It's lovely, a Christmas miracle," the second person marveled.  "May we stay for  little while and look at it? "

Elijah was filled with wonder.  A tree, and people.  He was no longer alone, at least not for now. 

"Of course. Join me. Here's a blanket to sit on."

As Elijah uttered these words he noted figures in the distance. Yes, they were human. More people.  They approached, three of them.

"Is that a tree?" one of the three asked.

"Yes, my Christmas tree," Elijah answered.

"May we..."

"By all means, sit down. Enjoy the tree."  Was this Christmas real? Were these people real?

By evening the tree was surrounded by travelers who had glimpsed it from a distance and who had come in a spirit of hope.  Each one of these travelers, it turned out, had a gift, something that could be shared with the group.

Separately, travelers were desperate for resources.  One lacked water.  One lacked food.  One lacked salve for sun blisters. Now, under the tree, they pooled their resources so there could be a Christmas celebration of sorts. 

By evening,  several in the group had thrown up makeshift tents.

In the morning, Elijah had an epiphany.

"Don't go away.  All of you, stay. Look what we have here.  Each one of you has an asset.  Is it a shovel?  A jug?  A stash of roots?  Dried lizard? Alone we are desperate, barely surviving. Together we are a community.  That is our greatest asset.  We can face whatever comes, together. We can unite around this one tree. It is a gift. Let us not question the gift or turn away from what has been offered to us."

The many travelers who had gathered studied the others in the group.  It was difficult to trust after years of wandering.  Hard to believe in anything.  A few in the group collected their belongings, and left. But the great majority nodded their heads in assent.

"How will we live together in peace?  How will we share resources?" one of the group asked.

Elijah contemplated the question, then offered what he believed their future could be.

"Where did the tree come from?  How did each of you find it? How did you come to be here today? Surely there is reason to believe we can live in peace because this Christmas has been a miracle.  Maybe we can't multiply loaves of bread or turn water into wine, but somehow we found each other. Because of this tree. Let the spirit that brought us together guide us. What is the alternative?  Solitude, despair? No. We must take this gift and let it form our lives, let it become the inspiration for our new community."

And so it was.  As Elijah watered the tree it reached toward the sky, and sprouted branches that cast a broad shadow on the ground. Into that shadow pine needles fell, and decomposed.  Birds came to perch in the limbs of the spreading tree.  They brought seeds with them and dropped these on the decomposing matter. Eventually green shoots appeared under the tree.  As the tree grew, and birds came, and the needles fell, so did soil form, and plants, and insects.

The community discovered an underground stream, and dug a well.  The well nourished wild plants that were appearing.  The life near the tree attracted animals.  There was food, and water, and people formed relationships and had children in the community Elijah built, around a branch, around a Christmas tree.


In time, the descendants of those first settlers held onto the notion that Elijah's tree and the events that ensued were predestined. As children gathered around their Christmas trees every year, the origin story of the community was repeated.

"Elijah was alone.  He was despondent.   It was Christmas morning when the miracle happened.  A tree branch appeared in front of Elijah's tent, and he saw in that a future.    His gift was in understanding the magic of that branch, and in his willingness to share its wonder with others.  To Elijah we owe the existence of our people.  Because of him, our ancestors survived, and because of his insight he no longer lived in solitude."


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A couple of notes about this story.  I got the idea from @valued-customer, who described his Christmas tree to me: "a branch that blew off in a storm, and my tree has one ornament on it."

The story corresponds to the Inkwell fiction prompt #41: Gift.

I hoped to get this out while we were still in Christmas week. 

Thanks for reading, and thank you to the Inkwell for providing a place where people can feel comfortable exercising their creative impulse.

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**Image**: I put the image together from three sources:
Bernd Hildebrand on [Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/namib-desert-namibia-africa-desert-7559993/) (desert), Myriams-fotos from [Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/sun-sunset-setting-sun-3275314/) (sun),  and Cuyahoga on [Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/desert-morocco-sand-sand-dune-1101123/) (humans)