We laid in bed like little kids the night before a trip to Magic Mountain or Disneyland. We were giddy, hyper, so nervous I could hear our heartbeats. Realizations of what we are about to embark on started to become just that, real, as opposed to things way off in the distance that one day we would do. When we came back three years ago from our first attempt at driving through Central America, we said we do it again. But three years is a long time to say you will do something. And that's all it has been, just saying it. But now, we are at the point of really doing it. I will admit, I am nervous and a bit scared.
|Saint Augustine of Hippo|
The other thing I remind myself of when I start to think I am making a crazy, and perhaps poor choice of my immediate future, is a poem by my favorite poet, Robert Frost.
I didn't really get this poem the first time I heard it, and I'm not even sure when or where that was. But I knew I liked Robert Frost and I knew this poem was about traveling so it always stuck with me. More and more, I think of this poem when I make decisions and wonder whether or not they are the right decisions to make. Because life is just that, a series of decisions, that once made, cannot be unmade, and set us down paths we will not have time to back-track on. Once you start down a road, you must continue down that road, even if it wasn't the right road. Now there will be forks in the road, and you will have the chance to decide between left or right, but you will not be able to go back. "I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." This is the line that gets me. This is the line that I strive to personify. I want to always be on the road less traveled by. I want to pioneer into the unknown. I want to discover mysteries that modern science or television would have us believe do not exist. Like ancient maps that warned of dragons and sea serpents, I want to find mythical monsters and gentle beasts, the stuff of fairy tales. And you can't find that if you always stay on the paved road, with stop lights, safety cameras, and lots of traffic.
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; 5 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, 10 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. 15 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. 20