I wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, I was just part of a smooth, solid, dependable road. Cars passed over me without a second thought, and life was simple. But then, winter arrived.
At first, it was nothing serious, just a few cracks. The cold seeped in, the ice expanded, and cracks began to grow. Every time a car rolled over, I broke a little more. Then plows scraped, pushed, and dug deeper. Salt? Don’t even get me started. It took away whatever strength I had left.
And now? Now I’m a full-blown pothole. Cars try to avoid me although some aren’t so lucky. I can hear the tires slam, the suspensions groan, and occasionally, a loud clunk when a loose car part gives up and falls off. I don’t mean to cause chaos, but what choice do I have? No one fixes me. No one patches me up. I just sit here, getting deeper, waiting for the spring.
Can someone please fix me?
Someone mentioned March 1st arrived. How would I know?. All I see is more ice, more slush, more misery. The sun might stick around a little longer, but the cold still owns this place and me. I’ll be here until someone decides I’m worth fixing. Until then, I’ll keep catching tires and rattling cars.
So, how did March 1st find you? Soaking up the warmth of spring, dodging potholes, or falling into one?