Above my kitchen sink is a window. At no time am I ever at the sink when I do not look through that window. Be it early morning or the dead of nite, I look. Sometimes there is specifically something I am hoping to see. Other times, I simply gaze at my backyard and the sky. No homes are behind us, so it is rare that I ever see people when I look.
About a month or so ago, I noticed a crack had appeared in the right side of the window. It was quite small...perhaps an inch long. I immediately pondered how it had happened. They are double glass windows, and the tiny crack is on the inside pane of glass. We had had a very short period of time when the weather was frigid. I wondered if my penchant for sliding open the window a wee bit to always allow fresh air to enter my home had somehow been too much for the glass to handle on those bitterly cold days.
Instead of checking into having the glass repaired, I let it go. It was such a small blemish, after all.
During these past weeks, I have watched the crack grow. It is stretching across the right side of the window. The line is not straight; it has angles to it. Zigzagging across the pane.
I touch it to find out if it is in danger of shattering. It seems sturdy. There are no protruding edges on the crooked line. It quietly reaches farther and farther up and across my window. It does not distort the view I have of the trees I have planted in my yard, nor does it interfere with my view of the grass and the sky.
It simply is.
And it makes me think.
Maybe we are a lot like that cracked glass. We experience times when we feel a little broken. A chink in our armor, so to speak. Other life events take place, and some cause us to break slightly more. We may stay even for a time, then another episode of concern or worry or pain occurs, and our fragility causes the crack to expand. Our emotions may seem jagged, much like the uneven line on the pane of glass. We fret. We wring our hands wondering what we should do to "fix" ourselves.
Meanwhile, life goes on and the crack seems to stop growing. It is still there, but remains static. We feel sturdy, strong once again. We might even convince ourselves that it will pose no problems for us. Until the day arrives when something catastrophic takes place. Suddenly, we are surrounded by shards of broken glass. Shattered beyond repair. It might take years for that moment to come. Or it might never come.
We never really know, do we?
"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." ~Anton Chekhov
About a month or so ago, I noticed a crack had appeared in the right side of the window. It was quite small...perhaps an inch long. I immediately pondered how it had happened. They are double glass windows, and the tiny crack is on the inside pane of glass. We had had a very short period of time when the weather was frigid. I wondered if my penchant for sliding open the window a wee bit to always allow fresh air to enter my home had somehow been too much for the glass to handle on those bitterly cold days.
Instead of checking into having the glass repaired, I let it go. It was such a small blemish, after all.
During these past weeks, I have watched the crack grow. It is stretching across the right side of the window. The line is not straight; it has angles to it. Zigzagging across the pane.
I touch it to find out if it is in danger of shattering. It seems sturdy. There are no protruding edges on the crooked line. It quietly reaches farther and farther up and across my window. It does not distort the view I have of the trees I have planted in my yard, nor does it interfere with my view of the grass and the sky.
It simply is.
And it makes me think.
Maybe we are a lot like that cracked glass. We experience times when we feel a little broken. A chink in our armor, so to speak. Other life events take place, and some cause us to break slightly more. We may stay even for a time, then another episode of concern or worry or pain occurs, and our fragility causes the crack to expand. Our emotions may seem jagged, much like the uneven line on the pane of glass. We fret. We wring our hands wondering what we should do to "fix" ourselves.
Meanwhile, life goes on and the crack seems to stop growing. It is still there, but remains static. We feel sturdy, strong once again. We might even convince ourselves that it will pose no problems for us. Until the day arrives when something catastrophic takes place. Suddenly, we are surrounded by shards of broken glass. Shattered beyond repair. It might take years for that moment to come. Or it might never come.
We never really know, do we?
"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." ~Anton Chekhov
3 comments:
so sad, but true, my friend...too often we never know until it's far, far too late. I think it's that moment when we learn the difference between seeing and vision; we know that there is a difference, but it cannot be fully grasped until it is experienced. And even after it is experienced, well, would we really have wanted it to be any other way?
Great post, Nikki!
Hugs
Meg
We miss you, Nikki....post again soon!
I guess it's a sign too to fix little things before they become big ones. I'm sure I'll figure that out someday. I'm glad you seem to have. ::mmmwhaaa:::
Post a Comment