A Future In Two Parts

I sat at a fork in the road, considering my options, confused at how I got here. Thirty-one, already divorced, with barely a penny to my name. The small option of right or left feels like the defining choice of the rest of my life.

To the right, a return to my past. An open invitation from my parents to stay as long as I need to get back on my feet. A continuation of the support I've been lucky enough to have my entire life. But a reminder of my inability to keep my life on track.

To the left, opportunity. It leads to a winding ribbon of roads that ended in a job opportunity three states over. That, and a college friend's couch to sleep on. It's a gamble to be sure. I don't even have the job yet, and if it falls through, I'll have used the last of my cash on gasoline.

I've never been a risk taker, so the safety net of family and stability tugs at the back of my mind. On the other hand, comfort can smother ambition, as I've learned first hand. And I don't want to be forty and living with my parents.

The chance at a fresh start in a new place is exciting, but scary. I could be who I want there, and this job would give me financial stability I've never had before. But if I don't get it, it would be just another failure that leads to a phone call to my parents for help.

There is no clear path, no obvious choice. The honk of a horn wakes me from my stupor. I'm holding up traffic. It's time to decide. I step on the accelerator and move on to the rest of my life.