Predicaments...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

At no point in my life did this poem sound more apt than it does now. Giving up a life of certainty, monetary stability (well I am not $RICH$ but still my employers kept me well provided for ;) ) and of course the proximity of loving friends and family seems to be getting to me. But I guess this too shall pass. Will it make all the difference? I do not know...