3. Locks

The next day I provided two trainings at a maximum security prison.  The prison was designed so ever smaller sections could be locked down, isolating violence.   Everywhere I went I passed through gates and doors.  At some junctions I could almost stretch my arms between the locked doors. 

Outside the prison, rolling hills had been plowed into wide open fields. Ducks on ponds rested up for their trek south, free to see the entire eastern seaboard.  At the bottom of the hills, the Monongahela River meandered through wide banks, giving way to steep hillsides.  A traveler in a boat could float all the way to Pittsburgh, where the ‘Mon’ joined the Allegheny to form the Ohio River.  On the Ohio, he could tour three states.  From there he might ride the Mississippi through the Southlands all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.

As I drove away I was struck how a few decisions might make the difference between encountering locked doors or passing through locks on rivers.   

Today I will make decisions that keep the world open for me to explore.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)