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Regular readers of this blog know a couple of things about me. For one thing, they know I live in Florida, having moved here from Upstate NY two years ago, no longer willing to freeze my cabungus off during the winter. (Or, as my husband phrases it, “you don’t have to shovel 90 degrees!”) They also know many of my blog posts are metaphorical, based on inspiration I get from my daily life which at times is well, yes, pretty darn metaphorical! And thus we set the stage for today’s post – The Sinkhole. Pure Florida. Pure Metaphor. See what you think. After spending the past several days in Chicago for the APHA Chicago Summits, I returned home late last night to a quiet and peaceful neighborhood, just as it should be. And this morning, all hell broke loose. As I took my little puppy dog for his morning walk, I encountered several neighbors blocking the road to prevent anyone from driving up to, in to, or over a newly formed sinkhole. Sure enough – about 100 yards from my house – a small hole in the road. As I write this post, a few hours hours later, the sinkhole is 10 times that size. It doesn’t appear there is any danger of losing any homes, thank heavens. Looks like we’ll just lose more of the road, curbing and possibly part of the golf course behind it. Sinkholes happen all the time here in Florida. They are not at all unusual. The biggest problem with the early hours of a sinkhole formation is the impossible-to-answer question about how much bigger it will get. What will it eventually swallow? A few years ago, about 100 miles from here, a young man died when a sinkhole swallowed his home – while he was sleeping in it. Could that happen again? And so we will wait and see. Am I nervous? Yeah. A little. As a result, sinkholes as metaphors are on my mind, and the very nature of them has taken on an entirely new thought pattern in my head, as follows….…