“No matter how fast you can run, age will catch up with you.” I sat breathing hard at the top of a trail end on mountain ridge. Years ago I might have jogged up the path.
I no longer have enough fingers on my hand to count my friends who have died. I miss some of them. I wonder about a few of them; did they find happiness. I wonder if they missed me after we parted? I think about the friends I probably hurt and my memory pretends that I didn’t mean to if I did. I’m much too nice a person to intentionally hurt people. I laugh out loud at this thought. I pick up a rock and toss it into the void. I listen. With my luck I’ll hear a scream when the rock hits some other hiker and kills him or her. Right, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.
I’ve almost stopped breathing hard. “It’s because they might kill me.” I shout at a bird hanging on a current of air.
Touch. Man talk about an addiction. If you thought it would feel good you’d tie yourself to a tree and expose your private parts to a passing bear to sharpen his claws. Some folks got into Cocaine; you decided that gratifying your sexual cravings might bring you the same wonderment. Even today you’d roll over and play dead if someone would scratch your back just right.
Down far away, I hear a freight train beginning its slow grind through the mountains. I know the path. Oh, I know the passage of the rails. Mill Creek, Dendron, Andrews’ Geyser, Anne’s Treasure, Graphite, Coleman, Jarrett Tunnel, Swannanoa Tunnel,