I’ve always loved the ending to Robert Frost’s poem The Road Not Taken.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Somehow in my fifties I find myself pausing longer at the two roads and a bench under a beautiful tree can entice me to ignore both roads and appreciate time spent hanging out at the fork in the road not making any decisions and being in the moment enjoying my coffee. This saves me from spilling my coffee if I would wander off on one of those roads, and the moment of realization that oh, my mistake again, I’ve been down this road before and it leads to a bloody dead end.