If you could change the ending of any book, which one would it be?
If I could change the ending of any book, it would be The Giving Tree.
For years, people have called it a beautiful story about unconditional love. And in many ways, it is.
But as I’ve grown older, I read it differently.
I no longer see a tree whose purpose is to give until nothing remains.
I see someone who forgot they were allowed to matter too.
The boy spends his life taking—branches, apples, a trunk—returning only when he needs something else. The tree never asks for reciprocity. Never sets a boundary. Never says, “I love you, but I need to keep some of myself.”
If I could rewrite the ending, the tree would still be kind.
She would still be generous.
But somewhere along the journey, she would discover that love and self-sacrifice are not the same thing.
The boy would learn that caring for someone also means protecting what keeps them alive.
Instead of sitting on a lonely stump, they’d sit together beneath a canopy of leaves that the tree never had to surrender.
Because the healthiest love isn’t measured by how much of ourselves we give away.
It’s measured by how both people can keep growing.
“Love should leave room for both people to remain whole.”
You are allowed to keep some of yourself.