this is getting close to a year...
I turn 29 tomorrow, and you'd think that by now I'd have more of my life figured out.
People around me kind of humor me when I joke that I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up...I remember saying that to a woman in church once, 3 or 4 years ago, and she said to me, "Isn't it about time you found out--You're already a grown up!"
I might also mention, she was not joking when she said it.
I've carried that sentiment with me to this day...that while I remain in a sort-of adolescent limbo as I try to grow as an individual, I realize it's almost a luxury.
People in other cultures have to decide their chosen path at an even earlier age or one is forced upon them. Knowing how I had to mature in many other ways at such an early age, to fend for myself and be so responsible doesn't seem to help me reconcile my absence of direction.
So do I turn inward an admit defeat?
Or do I use this year as an opportunity to take Frosts' road less traveled?
"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."
