Benny set his heavy backpack down on the ground in front of the signpost and looked at the direction indicators. Whatever words had been either carved into or painted onto the wood pointers had long since worn away. Benny scratched his head and said aloud, “Here we go again.”
How many times in his life had Benny come to a crossroads and found himself having to choose which road to take? He always had the feeling that, no matter which way he chose to go, the paths not followed would have been the better choices. Benny remembered thinking how nice it would be if he had the ability to see where the other choices would have ended up taking him in advance of having to choose, but he knew that that was simply not possible. We make our choices and then, for better or worse, we live with them.
He figured that he still had a few hours of daylight before he’d have to find a place to pitch his small tent for the night. He looked at the signpost once again, still unsure of which way to go. Benny moved next to the signpost, pointed toward the direction pointers with the index finger on his right hand and said, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe….”
Written for this week’s Thursday Photo Prompt from Sue Vincent.