There was a moment when I was walking with my friends, trailing behind really, stopping to look at every little thing, when the light hit just so and the woods were bathed in the green glow of the sun through the beech leaves. The trees stood so tall and gray, their trunks smooth, their eyes peering steadily out over my head, their leaves shaking almost imperceptibly in the afternoon breeze. It was like this. In that moment I felt my brother nearby, and it has been so long since I have been near him, so long since I’ve been able to sense his warmth or feel his love. He stayed with me for a while, like we were walking in the woods together, not that that was anything we ever did when he was alive, but it was what we were doing now. He was laughing at me, poking gentle fun at my uncontrollable urge to bend down, to look closely at colorful fungi, to pick up and examine every beech nut. He was wrapping his big arm around my shoulder, not saying anything, just walking with me in the green light, three days before the first day of fall.