Progress, In Progress

They are hammering away at my little road; they've been working on it for months now, such that I haven't experienced (what used to be) my beautiful daily drive for way too long.

Why do these things take so long? Nothing seems to be going on. I don't see big changes that I can measure every day. Hardly. Most of the time, it looks just as you see it here: rolled over, turned upside down, torn apart, and empty.

Occasionally I hear loud noises, things that sound like I might imagine a backhoe or bulldozer or cement mixer to sound if I was a little more versed in what those things sound like in 2007. Occasionally I see workmen and big trucks pulling past me into this tied-off area. Sometimes I smell tar or see a cloud of dust floating above my children while they play in the front yard.

But most of the time, sadly, my little street is just sitting here, unused. She looks tired. Harried. Lonely, and waiting for someone to come and fix her up so she can be made use of in the manner she was intended.

She is in between states, biding her time, waiting for the people that make her real to do what they need to do so she can move on to doing what she does.

Hey, would you look at that?

My little street is a mommy.