Broken Things

I had my windshield fixed today. It's been cracked for nearly two months, but I didn't call my insurance company to report it until yesterday. I can easily hide behind the fact that I've been extremely busy finishing spring semester (papers, finals, graduation decorations) in addition to my already hectic schedule with Logan and work, and so days and weeks tend to fly by before I get around to doing these types of non-urgent items. But that isn't the reason why.

So why did it take me so long? (Seven weeks in fact). It's because my windshield and my heart broke at the same time, and it didn't seem right to me that the windshield could be so easily repaired when my heart couldn't. There was no insurance policy to protect my heart and soul, my hopes and dreams for the future. There was no one I could call to replace my devastated heart with a new one that wouldn't know of the pain and suffering the previous one had endured.

As I've driven my car these past seven weeks, the large and unsightly crack running nearly a third of the way across my windshield has mirrored the large and unseen crack I've had inside myself. It's been a visual representation of the brokenness I've felt inside but couldn't show, which is why I haven't wanted to fix or replace it, until now.

I'm not even close to being healed, but I know I'm on my way. These past few weeks I've noticed the changing of the seasons as spring has begun making way for summer, and along with the changing semesters I know a new chapter in my life has started, post-heartbreak. It has reminded me that nothing stays the same, nothing lasts forever, not even heartache. If time can heal all wounds, then perhaps the crack in my heart is beginning to close.

So, I figured if my heart can heal itself, then maybe it's time to take care of the windshield.