It's finally happened. After two and a half years, I got the email from my community college. You know, the email.  The one that says "Hey, you might want to have our people run through the records of everything that has made the last few years of your academic life suck, because you just might be finished."

Which, as it turns out, I was . I had completed my associate's of arts degree. 

Exciting, right? I mean, it's time to pomp my circumstance, baby! For two and a half years, I worked, and I worked hard. No summers off, no Greek Week, no spring breaking in Cabo. Because let's be real, that stuff is all awesome if you are 18. Which, I am not.  I am 31. And a mom. And a wife. And no one wants to see that mix in a bikini on a Miami beach.

And as a 31-year-old wife and mom, it made sense that if I were seeking a reasonable paycheck, I should secure some sort of secondary education. So I did. But here's the thing:  no one told me about the lack of arrow-shaped fireworks pointing in the direction to which I am now supposed to proceed with degree in hand. 

Now that I have achieved a two-year degree, there seems to be two, pretty clear paths at this junction of academia semi-completion. I can either continue as a full-time student and work towards a bachelor's degree and allow my professional career to languish while I continue in student limbo. Or, I can return to work in the hopes that an associate's degree is sufficient to secure gainful employment. 

It’s like two roads diverging in the yellow wood. Robert Frost wrote that we cannot travel both. But I can't help but wonder which way he would suggest I go. And I know picking the right one will make all the difference.

Sigh.