Shared Crossroads
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It always continues to amaze me when I have occasion to witness how universal
our thoughts and feelings are. I say this because I, like
everyone would like to believe I am unique, special, but it isn't so. Here are two views on facing those nexus moments in your life - the
crossroad decisions that can shape the entire rest of your life. The first is
written by me, the other a reknown poet. Enjoy.
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THE PATH NOT TAKEN
It's one of those nights when I find myself reflecting upon
my past - remembering an Amtrak journey south. I was returning to
that god awful job on the Colombia rigging concrete forms for Bonneville Power
Plant II. It had been an unhappy winter, a lonely, a cold wet
winter, a hateful winter.
On the Amtrak south was a woman more lonely and more unhappy
about her life than I. She had just spent a long wet winter in
Seattle being treated for cancer and despite her brave words, I could see the
fear imprinted upon her soul. She was going back to California
and on to Colorado. In retracing the paths of her past she hoped
to rebuild the life she nearly lost. She was going back, back to
pick up the music and back to pick up her writings. Somewhere to
forget her hateful Seattle winter.
There was talk of a remodeled caboose she owned in
Colorado. Talk of shared music, places and events.
We talked of her life and we talked of mine. We found an awful
lot in common, we two strangers. A natural fit, simpatico, a
commonality. She played her mandolin and I borrowed a
flute. It wasn't long before we had an audience and beverages
rewarded.
The train had gone slow for all the damage the St Helens'
eruption had done to the tracks. Still the time went and the
miles shortened. Time enough. Time enough for her
to ask me to go with her beyond Portland. I didn't really know
her, she didn't really know me, yet she wanted me to go with her.
What if I had gone on with her? Said to hell with the
dam. Said to hell the job. Would we have become
friends? Would we have become lovers? Was she really cured of her cancer? Did
she live long enough to find someone else, to find her past?
I'll never know the answers to those questions, for I didn't
take that path. I choose a different way with different
memories. But still I wonder.
Carl A Smith
March `96
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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
Last Words
If you have any thoughts about this story - good, bad or indifferent - please
don't hesitate sharing them with me. I value your thoughts and
your words might well make me a better writer. Thanks
Carl A Smith
Spring `98
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