The Choice

24 Aug

At three o’clock on an Arizona August afternoon, this is what I think about. It works. I hear the surf rolling in, sound upon sound, repeating its invitation: don’t stop at ankle depth. Dive in. Refreshment is the reward for taking the plunge.

A sea bird flies very low over the water, looks directly at me, winks and calls out: Fly. Don’t just stand there. Renewal is the reward for attempting.

A friendly wind whispers in my ear…what are you wating for? Let me give you a little push. Relax. Risk it.

And then, in my mind picture, an old friend stands beside me. “Come on…I’ll go with you…follow me.” He takes several steps into the surf, looks back, extends his hand, smiles, and I know. I recognize my reluctance, the hesitancy that holds me back. It’s the choice.

Here or there. Dry or dripping wet. Safe, secure…ankle depth or all of me?

It’s the choice, isn’t it.

Always the choice.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: