It was close to twilight by the time the old man, now short of breath, reached the summit. From his vantage point he watched the leisurely advancing darkness gently blanket the surrounding countryside.
"When I was young," he thought, "oh so very young, I loved climbing hills. I was free as a bird then, without obligations. But, of course," he smiled, "my freedom was actually purchased by my elders, by their bearing obligations for me ... just as I would do in my turn with the next generation. And so the cycle goes.
"Freedom, though, it is such a word! To children it's unbridled play. To some adults it's a life free of responsibilities or repercussions; to scream but never to listen. To others it's a state of being, either guarded or crushed by society. But after all these years, after exploring all these crests and valleys, I believe I have found the true meaning of the word. Freedom isn't being unshackled from responsibilities, and it's not merely a state of existence. Freedom is a Person."
He lay down on the grass and peered up at the emerging stars. "Ah, freedom," he whispered, and closed his eyes.
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