Being Human

“I sometimes just come up here… to breathe.”

Freeman quietly breathes and I join. He recollects a season when the trees were as tall as him: a time I have no eyes for seeing nor wisdom to fully understand.
The steep hillside reaches up with its undergrowth to hold last year’s cones and needles and to guide the moment’s breeze. I was truly alive that moment. A followed silence allowed for the hearing of the world beyond our breath.