Eating Apples

James loves apple season, and we are blessed to have an apple tree on the property where James lives. After he eats his grain full of all his vitamins and minerals, we head over to the  tree. The apples are a bit wild, and ever so delicious. They are small, but James still prefers that I bite into them to break them up into smaller pieces for him. He stands under the apple tree, his mouth full of apple pulp and juice. It looks like he’s foaming at the mouth. I chuckle, but I make sure to stay clear of his muzzle full of apple slobber, lest I get my hair full of his green drool as I check the ground for apples that have fallen. The time with him is sweet like the apples. As I bite into the apples for him, I take my own mouthfuls. The moment with him feels primal. Have we done this together in another life? Time and space seem to fall into each other, and we experience a moment of forever. James asks for some more apple. I take a bite for myself out of one I just plucked off the tree. I hand him the rest of the apple. We stand together chewing. We are friends sharing apples.

While under the tree together, I ask James what he wants to share this week. There are no words. He is silent. We could laugh and suggest his mouth is way too full of apples to speak. But, maybe there is nothing to be said. The moment itself has already spoken. We are two old souls standing together in nature eating apples in shared silence. That seems like a good message to me.