The Blythwood Chronicles
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
The Road Less Travelled
Trying to avoid a terrific traffic jam on our way home from the train museum, we disobeyed our car's recommended route. As we cruised past the blocked section of highway, Kevin triumphantly said, "the road less travelled."
I looked it up for him.
"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."
The depth of our reflection was somewhat marred by my discovery, seconds later, that Robert Frost had written the poem because he was out walking with a friend who was chronically indecisive about which path to take.
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