Every explicit second,
each fragment of time,
every memory,
its placement in our minds pushes us differently swaying our subconscious.
Love, respect, duty, honor, each aspect is reflected in our choices.
With each instance a small chance,
a break if your willing to let go of who you where and give in to what people want you to be,
fragmenting a moment further fracturing our lives in adjacent directions.
A single drop of rain may topple the roof of an aging farm house; something similar occurring in me.
Ripped in half by a single choice, what do I choose?
What is the jelly to my peanut butter? Do I turn to peach preserves, do I choose to invoke a deep southern comfort of both false pleasantries and memories of home?
Or, do I look further west? Do I Indulge in a sweet, sweet, grape or strawberry jam?
I stand here staring, between the aisles with a fist full of quarters, and then she comes.
Walking down the aisle, a quick-sure stride, past me and my creeping anxieties to a mason jar fill…
