The Road Not Taken

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

                                                                   

I swear there's something spiritual about the woods. I can't describe it... it just feels.....spiritual. Like part of a bigger picture, yet everything is right there. It's peaceful. 

Today was the first time i've walked through those woods since Dad died. It was strange. I used to always walk through them with him. Others too, yes.... But I haven't gone through them alone, just me and Shelia, in a long time, if ever. It was...strange. I left my bag at home, only took my walking stick [That used to belong to my dad, he had it since before I was born and only gave it to me last year], keys, phone, and a leash for Shelia. 

I needed that.

RIP John Henry Blome.