“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost has always held a special place in my heart. My mother knew it verbatim and would often recite it to my siblings and me, if asked. Her rendition of the poem was always moving and without error. When she recounted the colorful images of the prose, there was always something deeper. There was a wistful mood that occupied the space of those within earshot, as if the poem itself was an allegory for her life. The sentimental lens from which the feelings in that poem were channeled by her, validated to me that life was a series of choices, and there was no right answer.