Unlike the past, the future held choices. Bright opportunities. He could choose which path to take, it would be his decision to move forward, not simply to leap from another sinking ship.
Yet there was a comfort in his situation, a dullness that had weight. He could choose to wrap up with it, deal with the things he didn’t like and move in growing, silent desperation.
One path was the scariest, filled with the most risk. A big place where people often went to seek fortune and fame. He lusted for the bright lights, but feared that his talent would only carry so.
Another was less risk, a return to a life he understood. A reconnection with the natural world in a place that had gone missing on the prairie.
The options – oh, there would be others – didn’t freeze him. He calculated what could be done, and when. He made plans, considered all the options.
He bid time, which he had.


missalister said...

Uh, this sounds too much like the way I think—lusting for bright lights and, bless my heart, moving all too tentatively toward them—but for me, in the end, my enemy, Time, always convinces me it’s my friend and I most always say, “OK, you’re right, there’s plenty of you to go around.” Time’s a fucking liar! Oh, sorry, says I, that is : )