My Fathers Walking Stick

Sometimes Symbolism is Ironic 

A Walking Stick propped in the corner of my room, hand made by my father.

It loomed there like it needed a walk, like it needed to share a trail.

It had a story to tell just as my father would tell.

He knows my heart and my needs and the walking stick is my guide.

I need an older brother's welcoming  hug. 

I need an older sister to still give me wisdom and be the holder of 

shared conversations like a vault. 

When do these two forks merge back on the trail.

Is the walking stick there to guide us back together.

On this Crisp fall morning the leaves dance in the wind and crunch under my boots.

Colors brilliant but yet dying

Branches been stripped bare by the wind. 

As the seasons change, So do families  

They become that path not taken, The path less trodden.

 

My heart is full of warmth but my soul is restless.

I am mindful of the saying "Blood is thicker than Water"

And the river between the two roads is deep.

I reach across to embrace and reconnect,

cherishing the thought of traveling this path together.

To share a walking stick.

Only to realize they took they other path. 

Since my fathers passing. I have felt more like an orphan than a sibling

Life seems just stuck in one season. No longer do we huddle in the warmth of winter together,

No longer do we wash away our grievances in a spring rain or laugh together under the moonlight of summer.  Siblings choosing to diverge into many muddled paths, everyone taking their own road. Leaving us each vulnerable to what lies ahead.

When do these two forks merge back on the trail 

Is the walking stick there to guide us back to family. 

To return to the other path and maybe take that one .. Together 

Remember it is important to realize that there is no wrong path ..

Robert Frost's poem is not “The Road Less Traveled” but “The Road Not Taken.” Even as he makes a choice, the traveler knows that he will second-guess himself somewhere down the line—or at the very least he will wonder at what is irrevocably lost: the unknowable Other Path. But the nature of the decision is such that there is no Right Path—just the chosen path and the other path. 

Reach across that fork in the road. Merge the path while you can

Let family be your compass, your light. But more importantly

Let the Roads of life converge and let the Walking Stick guide you

back to the same road.