Windshield Crack

Nine months ago, a stray rock hit the bottom of my windshield and created a tiny sliver of a crack. I didn’t notice it until nighttime when headlights from oncoming traffic illuminated the hairline fracture. It couldn’t have been longer than a couple of inches and was so low it was out of my sightline.

I forgot about the crack the next day and continued to drive with it. As the weeks went on, however, the crack crept higher on the windshield. Gratefully, it veered toward the passenger side.

We were still in winter, so I reasoned it made no sense to fix it with trips back and forth from the mountains and post-snow streets lined with gravel. The chances another rock would hit wouldn’t be so high come spring.

Spring came. So did summer. And now it’s the end of August, and the crack has snaked half-way across the windshield. Sometimes the sun catches it and creates a prism effect on the dashboard.

What was once barely noticeable has become glaringly obtrusive and unsafe. And what would have been an easy repair in February is now going to end up requiring a brand-new windshield.

Neglect can be sneaky.

We have all sorts of cracked windshields in our lives. Things that start out small, inconspicuous, quiet. And slowly, with time and inattention, they grow. Sometimes they interfere with how we see the world. Sometimes they can even be dangerous.

One tiny sprain, when ignored, grows into an injury that requires surgery and a long recovery.

One tiny resentment, when unaddressed, grows into a grudge that threatens to end a friendship.

One tiny lie, when unconfessed, grows into a pattern of deceit that damages a reputation.

One tiny drink or smoke or shop or scroll, when persistent, grows into a dependency that can take control.

Tiny cracks can turn into gaping canyons. But only if we let them.

Interested in object-based storytelling? My memoir, Piece by Piece: A Life Remembered through Things Lost, is available here. 📖💙