The morning sun painted the hills gold as seven-year-old Steve raced down the dusty road.
Five-year-old Kynthos hurried behind him, trying desperately to keep up.
"Wait!" he laughed.
"I am waiting," Steve called back with a grin. "You just have little legs."
Kynthos puffed out his cheeks.
"They're getting bigger."
Steve smiled. "I know."
At the bend in the road, they found an old farmer staring at his cart. One wheel had snapped, and the cart was blocking the narrow path. Fresh olives lay scattered across the dirt.
The farmer sighed. "My whole morning..."
Steve looked at the blocked road. "It's completely in the way. We'll never get to the river now."
Kynthos frowned. "That's not fair."
The old farmer nodded. "No... it isn't."
The brothers stood silently.
Steve kicked a pebble. "There isn't anything we can do."
Just then their grandfather caught up. He looked at the broken wheel. Then at the boys.
"What has happened here?" Grandfather asked.
"The cart broke. Now we're stuck," said Kynthos.
Grandfather pointed to the wheel.
"Can we change that?"
"No," Steve muttered.
"Can we choose what happens next?" Grandfather asked softly.
The boys looked at each other.
Steve walked over and picked up the first olive.
Kynthos gathered another.
Without another word, all four of them knelt in the road.
They filled basket after basket.
Then Steve helped lift the broken axle while Grandfather tied it with rope.
The repair wasn't pretty.
But it worked.
The old farmer wiped his brow and smiled.
"I thought my whole day was ruined. Thank you."
Grandfather smiled back. "Many hands make light work."
As the brothers walked home, Kynthos asked,
"Were you angry the cart broke?"
Grandfather chuckled. "Of course."
"What changed?"
"I remembered something."
"What?"
Grandfather placed a hand on each boy's shoulder.
"We cannot choose the road beneath our feet.
"We can always choose the steps we take."
