The road not taken

I stand over the stove, as clouds of cream swirl their way through spicy Tazo Chai. Beige, tan, cumulus cloud of cream wends its way into drink, echoing the spiraling ribbon of thoughts meandering through my just-awake mind. A black-capped chickadee delights in the newly-filled bird feeder just out the morning window.

 Tea and birds, one constant in this life.

 Loving where you've landed doesn't mean you stop questioning, stop pondering the forks in the road not taken. 

We change our lives in seemingly benign choices, like making tea. People live or die and thousands of lives are indelibly altered based on decisions about where to drive today, when to have sex, who to discuss these things with and whether to buy that pair of BCBG shoes. 

 It's always those tiniest of choices that hindsight allows you to see as pivotal moments. I wonder often about where choices might lead, might have led. I wonder about the people we chose not to be with for whatever reasons existed in the past and whether the fork in the path might again diverge upon today. Whether the best choice of the past is the best choice still. I tend to stay with things longer than is helpful. This much I know. Yet it takes a friend to point it out again.

 I wonder too, about whether forgiveness means healing. People told me so. I don't know that I believe it. There's a release for certain. But some wounds are deep and forgiveness is simply letting go, it doesn't stop the scar from forming. Scars are a form of healing but there it is, with you for life. Different and raised up, something you don't erase. 

 How many times have I chosen the less messy path, the safe path? As if there really is a safe path in this life.