23. My Machu Picchu
It was Hobson’s choice. Climb, maybe live, maybe die. Don’t climb, die. At times, dark, quiet nights might feel cocoon-like and cozy, but this night was an oppressive, pain-amplifying, soul-squelching bully. Hand over hand, I kept reaching up, skimming the wall, feeling for the next place to hold on. My palms were scraped, my fingers bleeding. But then, without warning, it happened: I touched something that made my heart jump. Soft, not hard. A plant. Broken, dangling like a loose tooth, and above it, a horizontal plane. Rough and deep enough to accept my open hands. It was the ledge. (100)
Dramatic illustration today.
"Hobson's choice" one of my favorite expressions! Not many know what it means. Recently, we had our front windows done by the Hobson Window Co. in Redhook. A young fellow, whose last name was Hobson did not know its meaning! We had the pleasure of informing him. There's also a wonderful movie with that name. Would highly recommend it. Anyway, one really doesn't wish to be given such a choice. Somehow, you made it out and I can't wait to find out how.