You. Shall not. Pass!

 

This has only happened to me one other time on my morning walk on the path. This morning the underpass to Williams Parkway was completely flooded. I am not surprised, as it rained hard for much of yesterday (and though you cannot tell from the picture, it was lightly snowing when I snapped this).

Sometimes the way you want to go is blocked. And you cannot pass. You have choices to make – go another way, turn around and go back home. But whatever you choose, it is clear that the way you thought you’d go just is not going to work. My walking partner and I turned around and went back home at this point in our walk. It shortened our walk by about 10 minutes, but since we walk for more than an hour, that’s not a big deal.

In ‘real life’, the choice isn’t always so easy. And I wonder if I should turn around and walk back home or whether another way will become clear. I don’t know at this point. I’d love to wrap up this post with some pithy and neat comment. But instead I think I must leave it hanging. Because I don’t have the answers. And I am not the saviour of the world.

(Don’t worry too much, dear readers, I am often given to a little too much melodrama when I am tired!)

One thought on “You. Shall not. Pass!

  1. 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.

    Robert Frost (1874–1963)

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