Is this a good sign?
I open my front door and a huge hole is where the road should be. The hole is in the asphalt and it yawns at me like “Yeah, I can show up anywhere.”
Normal Day. Normal house. Normal woman (?) walking down the street.
Big gaping hole appears out of nowhere in the hardest surface around.
The road, people, a hole in the road. Then, a garbage truck gets stuck in the hole and some workers arrive at the scene. The truck pivots out to reveal the indentation which is the size and depth of a small grave. When the workers pry the cracked asphalt up, it reveals…
A bigger hole!
With the kids at school I realize this is too fascinating not to document.
Here’s the hole.
Here’s what they did before they fixed it.
They made it bigger.
I have nothing but thankful, positive things to say about the workers who came out and put orange barrels and plastic fencing and cones around the spontaneous hole. That same day they began work to fix it. I didn’t have to call anywhere to complain or point out the problem with a huge hole in my road. They knew. They cared.
The backhoe carved the hole into a bigger hole to see if it went sideways or was Swiss cheesy down there. When I ventured close to investigate they told me it was twelve feet deep and offered to let me climb down on their ladder!
Then they filled it with a large amount of broken up asphalt and dirt and rocks and other filler materials. They dug a little back up to level it and lay down new asphalt and molded a curb and planted grass, put down hay and SNAP we have a normal road again.
Do they expect more holes to turn up?
Under my house? While I drive? Are mole people living under me? Does the presidential evacuation tunnel come out this way? Am I living on an ancient burial ground? Did a meteor fall and bounce away? Aliens. That’s what you’re all thinking, right? Me too.
I asked the gentleman in charge “Why?”
He had a fantastical story about this area originally being full of iron ore mines that were not filled in well, or something like that.
The twinkle in his eye said, “Aliens.”
I thought so.
In honor of the mystery of life beyond our imagination, here is a quote, dedicated to the hole that once was in front of my house:
“The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and he has to wonder through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.” Indian playwright and essayist Rabindranath Tagor