The Split
Yesterday I drove across most of Southern Idaho. This is not unusual for me. In fact, I’ve done it dozens of times over the past several years, though this time, when I came upon the major highway split, I stayed straight. For years, I have turned right, the split marking my more than halfway mark and a clear turn toward south, toward home. Yesterday, I continued driving east toward my new home. As mundane as it is, this new road, the one I had not taken before, this departure from my historical norm, felt unexpectedly exhilarating, and I felt myself smiling behind the wheel.
It made me think back to a question I was asked earlier in the week: I was participating in a new employee orientation (more on that later), and one of the “get to know you questions” was to share a road in your life that you didn’t take.
Upon seeing this question, my mind went to Robert Frost:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
I remembered building my high school valedictorian speech application around these lines. Cliche, I know, but so beautifully appropriate for the emotion we experience during the transitional periods of our lives.
In the minute or so I had to contemplate my answer, my mind explored several options:
I thought about sharing careers I seriously considered but did not ultimately pursue - becoming a doctor, becoming an airline pilot.
I thought about sharing how in another life I see myself as National Park Ranger.
I thought about my decision on where to attend college and wondered about sharing if I had gone elsewhere.
And then my mind went to the routine…
What about the route I decided not to take for a recent bike ride or the dish I didn’t order for lunch.
But I realized quickly that I wasn’t interested in sharing a road that I didn’t take. Instead I decided to tell my orientation buddy about a road I almost didn’t take.
It surely would have been easier not to make our recent move. We were comfortable, happy, felt content. Yet, there was a persistent wonder that kept visiting us, an itch we couldn’t scratch. So several months ago, my husband and I made a pro/con list around staying put vs. packing up. The list of items in the “staying put” column was much longer. Those items were more practical, more prudent; to stay made more financial sense. We were established in our community with friends and purpose. The items in the “packing up” column were much more emotional. I even remember writing, “it feels right.” In the end, we took this road less traveled.
This is what I shared to my altered version of the question.
I fully recognize that this move is still new - it’s been less than a month. But this week was the first time I had the opportunity to leave and then return. This experience has been telling: the excitement I felt taking the left hand fork of the highway split, the anticipation of driving over the ridge into our new valley, the feel of pulling into our driveway.
Every day we are faced with hundreds of decisions. What should I wear? What should I eat for lunch? What project should I prioritize? How should I respond to my child’s / partner’s / pet’s / personal needs? What do I want to do vs. what do I need to do? The results of some of these choices have larger consequences than others - some matter lots while others not so much. Often, I find that when I go outside my normal, when I pay attention to how I am feeling vs. what I think I need to do, I end up making decisions that feel more meaningful, more memorable. I take the new fork in the road and find that it makes a difference.
I am currently following along with Suleika Jaouad’s Book of Alchemy (if you don’t know her Substack, check out the Isolation Journals) and am enjoying a new journal prompt each day. If this is your jam, I have a prompt for you:
I wonder what you might say if you were to think about a road you almost didn’t take? What comes up for you, what might you feel proud of that you didn’t anticipate about an unexpected path?
I know it’s been just a few short weeks, but the way I felt compelled to answer this orientation question and the excitement I experienced when staying straight at the split instead of turning right feels good. It feels that this is a decision I am proud of, that this road I’ve decided to take will make all the difference, no matter what that difference turns out to be.