In the valley, a proud ash tree stood quietly at the edge of the meandering river.
An ancient bridge straddled the river. It was built long before the ash tree had even pushed its first green shoot through the ground. No-one could remember who had built it but many depended on the bridge to get from one side of the valley to the other.
One autumn a sudden storm caused terrible damage to the bridge. The villagers, eager to make a quick repair and get back inside to shelter, tied a strong rope around the damaged pillar and tied the other end around the trunk of the young ash tree. They reasoned that they could return in Spring and do a proper repair. The ash tree felt proud to be doing such a valuable job. It knew that it was helping the villagers and it felt good to be useful.
When spring came, the villagers were busy planting crops in the nearby fields and preparing for the spring festivals. The repair to the bridge did not seem important now as the tree was doing such a good job at holding the bridge up.
The ash tree did not mind at all. Each time someone crossed the bridge, it tugged on the rope and reminded the tree how much it was needed.
By the time summer had gone, the harvesting was done and autumn swung around again. The villagers had forgotten about the repairs altogether. The ash tree was doing its job so well that everyone had forgotten that there was a problem in the first place.
Another year came and went. And another after that.
The ash grew older and taller. The rope started to cut into its trunk. It began to feel the strain. The feelings of pride in its work were mixed with sadness that it was being taken for granted.
Over the years, as the tree grew, the rope cut into its trunk more and more. Footfall increased because travellers heard about the beautiful valley and people came from far and wide to walk their dogs. People moved into the area so that their children could spend long summers playing in the woods. The more popular the valley became, the bigger the burden became on the ash tree.
The ash tree began to bend towards the bridge, the weight pulling it away from the sunlight. The trees around it stretched upwards towards the sun.
The ash tree noticed that the other trees had lush green foliage. Birds made their homes in their branches. In contrast, the ash tree had a small crown with sparse leaves. The tight rope around its middle was constricting its growth.
The ash tree longed to break free but reminded itself that it was needed. It had a job to do and would just have to put up with the suffering.
Then one day, an old lady crossed the bridge. She walked more slowly than the younger villagers as she was carrying heavy bags and had pain in her ageing knees.
She noticed the deep grooves in the ash tree’s trunk. She recognised the signs of a tree that was unable to reach its full potential because of the burden it was carrying.
She wrote a letter to the village officials explaining that the tree was being harmed and that the bridge needed proper repairs.
The villagers weren’t happy. Doing proper repairs would take time and money. It would require thought and effort and they didn’t have time for that. There were other important things to do. The road might have to be closed to do the repairs properly and that would inconvenience the village officials who had meetings to attend.
The old woman was stubborn though.
“You have confused an ability to carry a temporary burden for an obligation to carry it forever” she explained.
She pointed out that one day the tree could weaken under the stress and break forever.
The villagers had no choice but to think about what would happen when this day came. They could only think about themselves but came to the sudden realisation that this might affect them. They had assumed that the tree would be the solution forever, but what if this wasn’t the case.
They had called the tree strong but had allowed its strength to harm it. They had said it was reliable but had come to depend on it. They had praised its resilience without noticing that it had stopped growing.
Reluctantly they closed the bridge so proper repairs could be made. People complained because they had to take a longer route through the valley, but they worked together to rebuild the bridge properly.
When the work was done, they cut the rope from the tree’s trunk.
Nothing remarkable happened at first, although the ash tree felt immediate relief at being untied from its obligations. Its trunk did not immediately straighten and the deep groove in its trunk remained, serving as a painful reminder of what had been sacrificed over the years.
When spring came, though, a small shoot poked out of the ash tree’s trunk. As summer progressed its foliage became a rich green as the sun’s light had finally been able to reach its leaves. Its crown gradually started to widen and birds came to nest in it.
Years later the tree still had a slight lean and a groove in its trunk. Anyone who looked closely could see the signs of the burden it once carried.
But high above it, the branches had found the open sky.