Homeless

Geesh. Tears are pouring down my face. I didn't even feel them fall. I'm freaked out. I feel so unimportant. All of our stuff fits in two storage rooms and the things I actually need can be put into two backpacks that are in the trailer we're towing. The city is nolonger mine. Before this I never considered St. Petersburg one of my possessions but now that it's gone my homelessness is crashing down on me. Will the next city truly be mine?

The Road Less Traveled

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.(hopefully)