October

          Sweet October, how many times have I fallen--exhausted--into your kind embrace?  Mysterious, lovely, as much for the nose as for the eyes, I would give all my Julys and the Januarys for a year of Octobers.  Would that all of life could be a tramp in the October countryside.  

          I love what I do in life, but sometimes I wonder why I didn't throw myself into other things.  "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," and I took the one most traveled by, because I didn't have enough energy, intelligence, imagination, or love to do anything else.  No, actually, all I really lacked was self-esteem.  Will the road-less-traveled-by still be there, waiting for me, when I return?  Or was that my last chance?  I chose the path of least resistance.  I was young, with no responsible adults to guide me.  And sometimes you  let the current carry you so far down a certain stream that there's never any question of swimming back to where you started.