Breathe

 

Some days, he forgot to breathe.

Life was busy and hard, and there was so much to remember, surely no one could blame him.

Eventually, he’d wonder why he felt compressed, anxious, and light-headed, and he’d pause and think, “Of course. I need to breathe.”

Then, he’d go outside, close his eyes, and breathe.

At times, he’d go days, maybe weeks, without breathing, and he’d suddenly hurl himself out the nearest door and gasp in air like a drowning man.

Which he was, right then.

“In-through-your-toes-out through-your-fingers” he’d think, the oxygen flowing through his body, reminding him he was alive.