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.

 Robert Frost

The other day I was walking to school like I always do (iPod on, phone in hand watching the time quickly approaching 8:00am, and bagel in my other hand, quickly disappearing). I make the walk from my apartment to work every morning almost without thought. It has become part of who I am, like sneezing when I have to get something out of my nose. Day after day after day I do the routine. Some call me a creature of habit. Wednesday, however, proved to be different. I was still chilling to Amos Lee, my phone still said I was late, and that Cinnomin Raisen bagel had never been better. What changed, however, was my path. I took the one less traveled by, and it  has made all the difference.

For some reason unknown to human kind, I decided to forgo the mountainous steps up to campus take a leisurely stroll through the duck pond. I was, after all, already late. What was an extra five minutes? I figured there was a path at the other side that would get me there just the same. So I started my nature walk, sauntering to and fro, when suddenly a  huddle of feather caught my eye. I turned to look, only to find a pile of ducklings! They were the most adorable thing  I had ever seen. My heart melted -- and then the mom started honking at me, or whatever sound it is that a hormonal, overprotective mother makes -- duck mother, that is. Nevertheless, I took that tender moment to pull out my phone and snap a picture so that I could remember the beautiful evidence of what the world has to offer. It sure beat staring at the huffing kid's butt going up the stairs in front of me. 

 I want a duck.