Some reading this morning left me considering the ‘roads, diverging in yellow wood.’ How many of us have ‘kept the first for another day,’ intending to travel on the road ‘not taken’ when we finally get the time? But ‘way leads on to way,’ and we rarely ‘go back,’ to take the other road. Would you, if you could?
Going back and righting the wrongs made in haste, in foolishness, in arrogance?
Going back and discovering other friends, forging other careers, making other homes, wearing other clothes?
If we’re are foolish, we dream too often of the roads we didn’t take. The ones we didn’t marry, the places we didn’t go, the songs we didn’t sing. We live an “if only I…” sort of life, dreaming of the other road.
Missing out on all that is, for all that might have been. Pondering choices. Questioning decisions. Lamenting days gone by.
Could things have turned out differently? Well, yes, I suppose so. But they didn’t. And ‘that has made all the difference.’
And you thought poetry couldn’t teach you anything…
(with thanks to Robert Frost, whose “The Road Not Taken” features prominently here)