The Road Not Taken

The last few months have been very difficult. Almost everyday, I have looked back to the past and have wondered about the major decisions I made in my life and how they have maneuvered my life and brought me to my present. Almost everyday, I am reminded of last stanza of the poem; The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. I am not sure if the roads I took were the ones less traveled, but the last stanza haunts me always.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.

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.

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