This morning I saw a Facebook post from my good friend StacyTrasancos:
I could just picture her in sweats, her hair put up
carelessly with a comb and two or three pins, trying to exercise some calm and
pull order out of chaos as five children noisily and messily ate their
breakfasts, perhaps while swabbing up some spilled milk and scooping some free-range
Cap’n Crunch off the counter.
But I can also picture the smile she had when she posted
that thought. This is the kind of moment
Stacy will reflect upon as her children cross stages to receive diplomas, as
they step nervously up church aisles to be wedded, as they themselves try to
wrestle some kind of calm out of their own kids’ anarchy while Grandma looks on
fondly. And Time will embroider the
scene in threads of gold and silver for her to carry through the rest of her
days.
And so I couldn’t help but remember the final stanza of Robert Frost’s “The
Road Not Taken”:
I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere 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.[1]





