Two roads

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 Road Not Taken

Everyone understands that life will lead you down these diverging roads, representing the inevitable and often difficult decisions we must make, and you will need to decide what kind of person you want to be.

The “yellow wood,” however, is what strikes me. It actually symbolizes a period of transition. Meaning that the fork in the road happens after you are in a period of transition, not before.

Further, Frost writes, “I shall be telling this with a sigh / somewhere ages and ages hence,” which suggests that he will construct the story of having taken the road less traveled.

The poem is almost self-aware about how we mythologize our choices in retrospect.

We decided the road we took was the right one after, not before.

We narrate choices we were already being pushed toward by a season we were already inside.

If the fork appears during transition, then the question isn't "Which road?" it's "Are you honest about what season you're already in?"