Before the flood. A very short story

Truth be known, I have never really liked fence-sitters. I value decisiveness and action. On the other hand, I want to think I am fair, non-judgemental, and willing to give the benefit of the doubt. That’s a contradiction for me, a contention that I deal with on a moment-by-moment basis all of the time; we all do that, don’t we? I am trying to convince my good little friend to get off the fence. It is raining, and it is not worth getting drenched. She is stubborn and relentless in her belief that her point of view requires respect. For her staying on the fence is her choice, a dignified choice, even though she might catch her death on this cold and wet afternoon.

I could cut my losses and let it go. I go through the lousy self-talk and down the rabbit hole of trying to figure out the ‘why’ of her stubborn unwillingness to accept my request to move off the fence. To decide, hopefully, to seek safety and shelter. Why am I surprised by her unwavering attitude? Her friends and family have been her stalwart trusted companions since her birth. Why trust a creepy bloke who has a weird reason? But I am compelled to give it my best shot.

Wisdom tells me I can’t save everyone. I do get that. But there are some worth the effort. If I were able, I would save as many as I could. Of course, that is not going to happen. Sadly, I have to accept that I can’t be responsible for the decisions of others. Their choices will dictate the direction of their lives. All I can do is tell the story and hope for the best.

At last, with a deep sigh, she turns her back on me, wiggles her arse and flies off. Time to herd the cats.

Noah x