Here I am, once again facing a fork in the road. I have been stuck here for so long that I have worn a hole in that place. The past year had proven to be a hard one. Mentally. That has proven to transfer over to physically as well. Tired. Far too many nights with little sleep. Couple that with the nights of sleep but plagued with dreams of the waking world that left me no real rest.
So I am still here. Running out the days filled with cooking, baking, cleaning and laundry. If it weren’t for the routine of life I would be nothing at all. I am not however feeling sorry for myself, but rather desperately searching for something, anything, that will spur some kind of forward motion.
As I contemplate the forks in the road I mentally list the pros and cons of each fork. The road of the most traveled, well worn and clearly marked. The road less traveled with few worn spots and virtually no markers. As usual, neither looks very inviting.
In the end, whenever I can finally make some sort of headway into forward motion, I know which road I will end up traveling. It will be neither. I will end up making my own way into the unknown. Comfortable in the knowledge that not all who wander are lost.
I just want to get to a place of moving forward.