Divorcing ‘I’ from Routine

A story of breaking from everyday me

Next steps. I’ve always controlled them.

Diverging roads never existed because I was the arbiter of direction, whether or not I could see beyond the crested hill.

But now, the rug of certainty is swept clear from under me, and I am an island. No lifeboat, no bridge, no safety vest.

Robert Frost was not a liar; we simply misunderstood. He spoke of two diverging roads, and for more than a century, we assumed it was prescriptive. It was not.

Frost noted he “shall be telling” of his decision — not that he made one. We leaned into this as advice rather than a warning, and when our routines abandoned us — by choice or otherwise — we were unprepared.

I am unprepared, and it is terrifying. But I am not terrified.

Two roads have diverged in my life, and for the very first time, they will take me where I cannot see.