That morning, before she even opened her eyes, Colleen understood that the crack had widened, lengthened, that it was encroaching upon the sky-blue surface, about to split the whole pane asunder and leave it in irreparable pieces.
She opened the front door with care, watching the stained-glass, and knew it was only a question of time. She wanted to scream. She wanted to call her father to come fix it. She wanted to crab about her husband never getting around to anything. Most of all, she wanted it back the way it was, the way it had been: whole and perfect and useful.
She thought about searching for replacement panels or carpenters online. How much would it cost, how long would it take? Did anyone make stained glass anymore? At the first rain or cold snap, it would become an emergency, something to be taken care of immediately, all else placed on the back burner until this one all-consuming task was completed.
As she shut the door again, Colleen looked across the lawn to the patch of vegetable garden they had imagined. Had there been tomatoes, it would have been time to go water them.
's word this week is CRACK 3a : a narrow break : fissure b : a narrow opening
—used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to
describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out