You’d think on this day (of all days) I would write about love. About the force of it. The need for it. Its healing power. How those we love add depth to our lives and enrich our worlds.
But, no. Not me. There isn’t a fluffy sentiment to be seen around here.
What, you say? No candy. No chocolate. No diamonds or cards?
Nah. Today, I have something more important to chat about. Potholes. Yes, you heard me right, but just in case, I'll say it again. POTHOLES.
The little buggers always start off small. . .so unthreatening you hardly notice them at all. But as time passes that innocent looking scrape becomes a crack. The crack turns into a tiny hole then a big one until one evening while on your way home, driving the same route you always drive and. . .whammo! You’re ambushed. The casualty? Your right front tire.
Now, you’re hobbled on the side of the road (swearing because really, the experience wouldn’t be the same without an explicative or two) and you’re thinking. . .“Oh, crap, I’ve been hit! Where the heck did that thing come from?”
Well, my friend, it was always there--festering on the once pristine asphalt. You just never noticed the gap was widening.
Relationships are like that, aren’t they? The bumps in the road sneak up on us. All the small stuff accumulates into bigger stuff until, yes, damage is done. Sometimes, it’s irreversible. Most of the time it isn’t. The pothole can be fixed, the pavement repaired and love endures. . .with some work and a whole lot of understanding.
So, this Valentine’s Day vow to make appreciating your partner an everyday thing, instead of a once a year occurrence. Pay attention to the condition of the road and, I promise, you’ll see potential potholes coming from miles away.
Hmm. I guess I lied. . .the sentiment was there all along.