It was rather late in life when one day, an extremely wise and elderly woman whom I admired greatly, named Margaret, told me I reminded her of the poem "The Road Not Taken". Surprised and taken back, I didn't think to ask why. Knowing she intended it a compliment, I was flattered. At the time, I was deeply and emotionally invested in crusade to save a historic building. Looking back now, I wish it wasn't too late to ask her.
Isn't it funny, how there are so many forks in the roads of our lives, that we don't even realize them? Looking back we can see them so much easier. Every day, we don't realize that there is always an alternate path. Like the choice that my daughter and I made, after a trip to the mall and a bookstore last night. We could hardly wait to head home, and settle in with our new purchases. And later, we watched in awe, as the TV displayed the terrible destruction of the tornadoes that tore across the city we had just left. Looking back, I am so thankful that we chose the road home when we did.
I have always taken the one less traveled, and it really has made all the difference.
