There is a crack in my windshield.
A rock hit the upper corner on the passenger’s side. It was one of those pops where I wasn’t sure if it hit the frame or the actual glass. It was loud and sort of shocking. I leaned over and saw the pronged star. It wasn’t that big, but it looked deep. I needed to get it somewhere quick and have it fixed, before it spread.
As the day moved on, I decided it would have to wait until tomorrow. I didn’t want to sit at the carwash while they tried to sell me on some package. I wanted to go home, couldn’t be bothered with it just then. It wouldn’t spread overnight.
In the early hours of the next morning, I got into my car just like I have hundreds, thousands, of times before. This time there was a crack halfway across my windshield. It had not reached the driver’s side, but it was on it’s way.
I sat there a moment. Cursing my poor decision to leave the star until the next day, my mistake. I allowed myself the pity moan of, “What are the chances in under twenty-four hours…” and then I started my car and went about my day.
Things were different with the crack. It was a reminder of my bad decision, poor timing. Suddenly my car seemed dirty, ruined, not as nice as other cars. I found myself feeling self conscious about the crack, wondering if people were noticing it, judging me and my glass scar.
It was not a good day and I told myself that I needed to get a new windshield right away, immediately, because I was not going to drive around like this. It was completely unacceptable.
That was about a month ago. I’m still driving with the creeping crack. Now there are dead bugs on my windshield too. I don’t know what has happened, I haven’t even called a glass company yet. I’m just living with it, accepting it and the fact that a few other things have been more important lately.
Could be that I’ve made peace with this particular crack, accepted that it is where I’m at right now. I’ll get it fixed eventually. I’m pretty sure the crack became less of a nuisance once I stopped caring what it “said” about me. It is not a result of my laziness, it’s no one’s fault. It’s not bad luck, it just happened.
My windshield is messed up for a bit and that’s all right. It’s not a commentary on who I am as a person. It’s a hiccup, a bump, on an otherwise lovely car.
It’s a crack. Nothing more.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Eyes Cracked.
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