
You probably know the poem “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost. It ends with
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
I remember our English teacher reading it to us. I was 14 and I instantly froze and listened more intently than ever – I felt somehow this was so hugely powerful, that some day I would get a full grasp of its entire meaning.
Most of the time I think we navigate life rather reactivily than proactively. We do the things that makes most sense and don’t give much thought about it at all – and that’s probably a good thing on a daily basis, otherwise I’d never get anything done! I do remember the first time I chose a path that wasn’t the one people had expected me to take. I was quite young and at the time it was motivated as much by fear of the unknown as by the conscious choice of doing what I actually wanted.
Today I have counted the number of times I saw the clear and obvious path that lay ahead of me, the one that all would say made most sense, the one I would have been expected to take, the one I myself thought for a while I would take – and then decided to go another way. 6 times. I counted 6 times. Major decisions to me (not always noticeable to others). Presently contemplating number 7.
Mr Robert Frost, I don’t know that I took the road less traveled by; as I grew up, taking the road less traveled actually became less cool of an idea because why should I define my choice based on what other people think – whether I follow the road most traveled OR the one less traveled, aren’t I then still just choosing the road comparing myself to somebody else’s definition of what the road is? Just once in a while I laid new tracks when I really didn’t like anymore where the ones I was seeing were going. Or was that what you meant with the “road less traveled”?
Anyways. The road to my father has been a very long one. 30+ years in the making. Why doesn’t really matter. I just feel fortunate it’s there. I’m glad I took the time to reflect and decide which path to take.
Today I am getting on a plane. My father is sick. Not the flu kind of sick. I’m going back home, to France, to spend a few days with him before his treatment starts. A few blissful days doing just what we want and nothing else. Together. Doing something I doubt either of us would have thought possible even just 10 years ago:
Sharing a Road.
