Roads Not Taken

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

                                                    

                                        ~Robert Frost

 

 

Disclaimer:  This could get very deep, VERY quickly.  (Sorry, Mom... this will be devoid of Kate-ness, so you might as well stop reading.)

I'm not sure what's triggered it.  It might be the alarming rate that my daughter is growing up.  It could be reconnections with old friends.  Most probably, it's the grim spectre of fifty looming on the horizon.  (If you're still reading, Mom, sorry for the reminder.)

Anyhow... I've found myself pouring over the details of my past and examining and re-examining every decision and event that has had any bearing on who I am and where I am today.  No rock has gone unturned.  No relationship has been left unmolested.  No choices have been given a pardon.

 

Have no fear.  I've also been dissecting how other people's decision or actions or inactions have influenced my paths and roads or even my crawls through the undergrowth.  Nothing is sacred.  Everything is fair game.  If an event brushed up against me or ran me over and then reversed back over me to make sure it got me good, I've pulled it up before judge and jury and turned the harsh light of interrogation on it.

 

How have I gotten to this point in my life?  Why am I who I am and how on earth did I get here!?  Who would I be and where would I be if even just one small thing had been different?

 

The short answer is.... I haven't a clue.

 

I can't say I'm dissatisfied with my life. I love my husband. (And he loves me.)  I adore my daughter. (And she adores me... for approximately three more years and then I'm the Evil Queen of Darkness (tm).)

 

My job?  I know I didn't go through four years of college and then pick up a teaching certification just so I could be the caretaker at my church.  I will admit to a certain macabre sense of destiny to all those summers standing in windows and polishing out streaks, cleaning toilets, and pulling gum off the underside of desks.

 

However, my job is not my priority in my life.  My family is.  I am blessed to have this job that is flexible enough that I can be there for Kate and still do some of the things that I need to do.  It also gives me an extra excuse for why I'm not writing my great novel.  (This could be a relief to certain people in the world... you never know who is going to show up disguised as the villan!)

 

I could probably write a whole blog and a half (and by my usual standards that's a LOT of blog!) on the many ways I'm blessed by "my little job."   Let's just say that it has many benefits and has given me so much more than I could ever explain or list.

 

Seriously, Life is Good.  Yeah, I could be a little richer, a lot thinner, and I wouldn't mind being younger... but in the grand scheme of things.  I've got it pretty good.

Yet still... there is this gnawing desire to know what life might have been if only......

If only I had been a veterinarian....

If only I had gone to grad school....

If only someone else would have picked up the pieces....

If only I had said no....

If only I had said yes....

The list is endless.

And with each "if only" comes a movie that starts to play in my mind.  I'm desperate to see how it ends and what the plotlines are, but the truth is... I don't know.  I'll never know.

A very wise friend of mine told me that I shouldn't know.  What if I see the ending and decide that is the ending I should have had instead of what I currently have?  How dissatisfied would I be with what I have now?  How bitter might I be towards anyone or THE one person who could have changed the course of my life?

How much might I hate myself for choosing "poorly?"

I know she speaks GREAT wisdom.

My Mom will tell you that I've never done anything the easy way.  (Unless it was homework... or vacuuming the stairs)   There is the common sense way and then there is the Chipper Way.  No matter who gave me counsel, I've always had to make my own way.  I've had to crash and burn and make every mistake a person could make every torturous step of the way.

Let me tell you.  I've made some doozies.  (Don't let my Mom tell you, I'm sure her list is longer than mine.)

So, here I am.  Satisfied with my life (mostly) while at the same time yearning for some magical power to see alternate endings.

Alternate endings.

And in those two words, I might have my why for all this turmoil.   As proud as I am to be my mother's daughter, I am in spirit my father's daughter.  He was a storyteller of great skill.  I love nothing better than a good story.  So, my attempt to untangle the threads, to unravel the great mysteries of my life is probably nothing more than the storyteller in me searching for the perfect tale.  The perfect twist.

I think that perhaps instead of thinking about Robert Frost, I should be singing a bit of Sinatra instead.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
"Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way"

 

My way.

 

The Chipper Way.

 

Adventures that I'd never give up.  Lessons too valuable to not learn.

 

Yes, yes, regrets... I've had a few.  And mistakes... well, I'm not done making those.

 

However, all I need to do is go into the next room and watch my daughter sleep.  To listen to her draw breath.  To hear her laughter and singing.  To share her stories of dragons and wolves and adventures.  All I have to do is to look at her and I know....

 

I'm not the end of this story.

 

Thanks for indulging me.

 

 

   

Maybe I just need more beer.....