<p>Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~ Robert Frost, The road not taken ~</p>
<p>I wasnt sure I was breathing. The world, all of a sudden, turned black; there were only I, the gun, and those six boars. I stayed still and listened to my heart pounding, it was that loud. Maybe Clay heard it too, but he didnt move either. My eyes were glued to the guns binocular, my right forefinger to the trigger, so simple and conformed, as if I could only do that one posture. One second. I was ready for my finger to make the final decision. My eyelids stopped blinking. My heart paused. Everything seemed paused, even the pigs. I squeezed the trigger tenderly like it was made of cotton, 100% cotton, as gentle as possibly be. I did it. The bullet was delivered; my head felt dizzy, and certainly, there was chaos. </p>
<p>Prettiest springs break of 2007; my host family and I were heading to a ranch thirty miles out of San Antonio. We were there by noon. Our car strolled by a white wooden gate, entered a confined trail scattering nicely flatten rocks. Simply one word: breathtaking. I would gaze upon the grassy fields, clumps of flavescent bulbuls careened in rhythm as the place shined with golden rays of sunlight. It awed me, nature, like the awe when I finished memorizing every single word in the Barrons 3500 Words List; my brain would drain out completely, emerged in elation, then followed by a weird lonesome smile. </p>
<p>After a few days practicing target shooting, I ultimately got to experience the real nature of hunting. A little over four, the sun blurred out leaving gradients of hues; I swear your heart would burst out just by looking at that. We were heading to the bind, Clay and I, well-prepared, a gun, a little box of bullets, a couple of binoculars, an apple, and a jacket. It felt awesome sitting in the bind, just like when I made a speech in front of 150 people at the U.S. Embassy, in control and fearless, although this time it was the wilderness and I was mute. Hunting requires three major characteristics that I all flunk at: patience, patience, and patience. Its true; you ought to love watching the nature, waiting for beasts to come, even when your butt freezes and your stomach screams hungry. Well, at least I was trying, thats one thing I never fail at, try! </p>
<p>Back to the hunt; two hours elapsed, probably the longest two hours Ive ever experienced; I tried everything to keep me from being bored: examining lines on my palm; studying the feeder (you never know, there might be a huge pig hiding somewhere behind the bush); then I thought about my parents at home, my Dad would love this. Its been almost two years being away from home. Although no more crying over the phone, at times I couldnt stop feeling like an empty glass thirsting for love. I find new joy in hanging out with my second family; baking the best cakes; writing pages of essay for AP Literature; having lunches with Zach; brainstorming new ideas for the lab contest; jamming out with Mariam, singing out loud new songs, just ordinary things. I like to take control of my life, knowing the coming twists and turns of it. Clay tapped me in whisper, curtailed the flow of thoughts Nick, look!</p>
<p>I stared up and oh my Lord, there were six colossal boars standing right beneath the feeder; they were ugly and dingy a combination that creates the worst. Watching them, you could easily get the impression eating like pigs; I thought they could finish a bag of corn in a second or two. Clay got the gun rested ready with its caliber headed towards the pigs; I got myself to a comfortable position studying the pigs through the guns binocular, a much better view. </p>
<p>Just relax, you have plenty of time, Clay reassured. </p>
<p>I nodded. The game has clicked on, I began acquiring stats; the feeder is only about 100 yards away, which should make a pretty good shot; the pigs are steady in their positions, excellent! Ive practiced with this gun, its a loud powerful machine that repels a good force back to your shoulder once fired, so the trick is that you squeeze the trigger instead of pulling it, Joels words were still vivid. Now, the biggest question occurred Which one should I shoot? The gang of pigs seemed to be divided into two groups; the biggest one was enjoying the meal alone while the other five stood closely together four meters away. I would like to get the biggest one, however the chance is not as good as aiming at the other five: if you miss one, chances are, you might get one of the remained four. Should I take the riskier choice for great success or play safe and get a smaller prize? </p>
<p>Its always the choices that puzzle people. Ive made many decisions, some were good like when I decided to skip my junior year to take a gap year later on; some were bad like when I refused to help Anh with her assignment or ignored a gaunt boy on the street to catch the bus on time. But one thing for sure, the more decisions I make, the wiser, the better it gets. In fact, there is never any choice but a fate that is leading us; we create this idea of choices to make it seems like we have control over our lives. </p>
<p>Did I get the pig? or Which pig did I shoot? are questions that really dont matter.</p>