There’s a pivotal scene in nearly every great rom-com: someone—usually disheveled, inexplicably attractive, and ideally running in the rain—realizes they’re standing at a major crossroads. One path leads to predictability, the other to adventure. Cue the swelling music.

I never thought life could mirror one of those scenes. But there I was, in my mid-twenties, standing smack dab on a proverbial fork in the road, channeling more “Bridget Jones’s Diary” than “Casablanca.” My hair? Frizzing. The decision? Far less cinematic than rom-com lore might suggest. I wasn’t choosing between two perfect partners or life-altering career gigs. It was a decision between staying in Santa Fe—the cradle of my family’s gallery, my close-knit friendships, and my soft adobe cocoon—or packing up for a job in a buzzing, frenetic New York City gallery that promised prestige and chaos in equal measure.

In the end, my heart chose home. But every now and then, like an old postcard stuffed in the back of a drawer, I revisit the road I didn’t take. What would my life be like if I’d hopped on that cross-country plane and dove headfirst into the Big Apple’s wild ride? While I’m entirely at peace with my choice, the “what ifs” linger—and I’ve learned that’s not always a bad thing.

Section One: The Seduction of That Other Path

When faced with big decisions, the road not taken always seems shinier. That’s probably why every iconic movie protagonist ends up chasing the road-trip girl/guy or abandoning their sensible fiancée in an airport. (Shoutout to every Hallmark Christmas movie ever.) My New York path came with glittering gallery openings, heated debates over overpriced wine bars, and a life saturated in everything high-energy and ambitious. There’s no denying the magnetic pull of reinvention, even if it comes with dodging subway rats and battling laundry scarcity.

And yet, seductive as that picture was, there’s power in recognizing what pulls you back to center. You know that moment before you flip a coin and suddenly know what you want based on what you’re hoping the coin says? Santa Fe felt like the weighted side of that coin—home, grounding, and yes, a bit safer too. Call it intuition or call it cowardice, but I trusted my gut to guide me.

Section Two: We All Romanticize the “What If”

I blame pop culture for how much we romanticize the “what if.” It’s why we linger over “Sliding Doors” and Lionardo DiCaprio’s sunlit daydreams in “Inception.” But in real life, there’s merit in reflection—without the pressure of regret. Fantasizing about a different path doesn’t invalidate the one you’re on. In fact, it can reveal insights into what you value most now.

For me, I sometimes imagine an alternate NYC-Lila in stylish boots (which she surely ruined in a monsoon-like puddle), diving into city networking, maybe dodging relationships because “who has time,” and existing on bagels and Vietnamese takeout. Nowadays, late-night enchiladas with my best friend on a candlelit terrace feel much richer than hurried meals to meet deadlines. Alternate-Lila might have had adventure, but grounded-Lila has artistry—a life layered with meaning and love for my roots.

Section Three: How to Love the Path You Chose

Wherever we land after a big decision, it’s easy for our daily routines to feel lackluster—especially after imagining the adventurer we could’ve been. But there’s beauty in cultivating the life you’ve chosen. Here’s what I’ve learned about honoring your own path, even while marveling at the one you didn’t take:

  • Romanticize your reality. My adobe casita, though small, has the kind of energy HGTV should make an entire special about. Take a good look at the view from wherever you’ve landed—the way sunlight filters through the windows, the way it feels like yours. Invest in making your space—and your reality—something you love.

  • Find your “adventure” energy. One of the things that appealed to me about NYC life was its dynamism. So I channeled that energy in other ways—reaching out to a gallery colleague for bold collaborations or wandering Santa Fe’s Saturday art market to surprise myself with what’s out there.

  • Check in with yourself. Weekly coffee dates with yourself—doesn’t matter if it’s a five-minute journal exercise or an actual latte-fueled excursion—can create space to reconnect with your why. Why did you make this choice? How has that shaped who you are today? It keeps your story alive and your lens fresh.

  • Release regret. Know this: You’ll always have paths you didn’t explore. It’s normal to feel a pang of curiosity about them now and then, but it doesn’t make your current path any less worthy. And get this: there’s a strong chance someone else is daydreaming about a version of your life, cozy adobe casita and all.

Section Four: The Wild Twist of It All

You know the quirky thing about roads? Sometimes they loop back. I used to think that by choosing Santa Fe, I was forever closing off a New York chapter. But opportunities have a funny way of sneaking back into your life in unexpected forms—whether that’s through professional collaborations, visiting friends, or things like early digital openings at museums in other states. Saying no once doesn’t always mean forever.

Not long ago, I found myself wandering an exhibit in NY during a personal visit—shoulder-to-shoulder with big-shot curators and fast-talking Millennials. It didn’t feel foreign, or even like a scratched-out line from my life’s script. It just felt like… one moment in my journey. A valuable glimpse of a life I might’ve lived, without regrets about the one I’m building.

Conclusion: Every Road Has Its Sunlight

Robert Frost may have summed it up best when he called his chosen path “just as fair.” No road is immune to obstacles—or joy. The trick is not in perfectly predicting the outcome, but in choosing with consciousness and owning that choice with courage. Sometimes that means taking the dazzling, off-the-map risk. Other times, it means staying right where you are and deepening your roots.

So to whoever needs to hear this: whichever way you lean, there’s no right way to live a remarkable life. Whether you’re striding out into the unknown or curling up in the familiar, you’re crafting a journey wholly yours. And guess what? The road you chose will have its golden hours—just make sure you’re walking it with your head high, your heart open, and maybe (just maybe) some stylish-but-practical boots.