To make a decision is like a science experiment bubbling over on a hot bunsen burner, a flask of brew that can make an experiment fail or the task a success, the deciding moment is yours, or as simple as keeping warm to gather pinon wood. I stoop down with an arm load to gather more in that moment of choosing to take another piece.
I lose some of the wood off my arms, dropping on my knees, and then from some chaotic moment I lose balance and the whole pile is slipping from its unique extreme balancing act with one hand.
Decision to do so creates an unexpected, incomprehensible, thought provoking, mumbo jumbo of WTF’s.
Yet with everything I have to do now, I’m regretting the task of balancing wood with one arm. I will do my best.
I have the choice to be angry or the choice to be happy; that is the only thing I am in charge of for the moment, the only decision I can make.
I crouch down once again making a puzzle to prevent them as they fall. Then I sit a dry flat piece down in the middle of them all. I stand up from my crouch position with another pile high above my head. I’m a clever man, maybe one will drop from the walk to the house, my bicep aches with the load. Across the corral with my armful, my decision was a good one; to stack them, tuck them in a better load.
Grandma made a decision with Grandpa, that’s why I’m here..