The Path Less TraveledMy mother has Wednesdays off from work. This past Wednesday, my mother decided that we should go to the zoo. "We" included her, me, my son, and my brother and sister. Marlene was excited about getting a zoo membership because her grandkids can go to the zoo for free with her. I told her Charlie could go to the zoo for free anyways, since he was under two years old.
I had a few misgivings about going to the zoo. First, although it was unusually warm, it was going to rain. I would hate to have Charlie be out in the rain and maybe get sick. Second, I didn't really understand why it was important to take Charlie to the zoo. After all, he wasn't even three weeks old yet. He can barely see more than eight inches away. He's not going to be able to absorb much from a zoo visit.
Although I voiced my concern about the weather, I kept my mouth shut about Charlie being too young for this endeavor. My mother was determined to take her grandson to the zoo; I wasn't about to be the one to rain on her parade.
As we approached the zoo, it seemed that everyone else in Monroe County had the same idea as Marlene. There was no where to park. A zoo employee directed me to park in a ditch. I was not pleased. If it started to rain while we were in the zoo, we would have to hike back in the bad weather. Plus, I didn't trust the ground. It's April; the ground is soft. I didn't want my car to sink in.
I convinced Marlene that maybe the zoo might not be a good idea. We both decided to walk around the beach. My thought on suggesting the beach was that I would never be too far from the car where I couldn't get Charlie back quickly. Plus, I wouldn't be out $5 for admission if it started to pour.
The beach was relatively deserted for such a warm day. The wind was starting to pick up. I got Charlie's stroller out of the trunk. Mom took Charlie out of the car. He was fast asleep. It would be a quiet walk around the park.
As we walked from the parking lot to the beach, the sidewalk split off in two directions. My mother stopped and looked at it. I could tell she was thinking something profound.
Mom: (in a voice indicating she's quoting something) Two paths split off from each other...
Me: Who do you think you are? Robert Frost? That's not how it goes. "Two roads diverged"-
Mom: Listen, when you get to be my age, you can quote who you want, when you want and say whatever you want.
Me: (under my breath) Then it's not really quoting someone, is it?
My mother ignored the last comment.
Apart from the wind, the walk was pleasant. My mother kept looking for "treasures" (see the post from Wed. Dec. 31, 2003), but she couldn't find any. I think she was disappointed they cleaned the beach. As the sky darkened, we headed back to the car.
After all, we took the park less traveled by and it made no difference.
