What makes a hole a hole? What is the essence of holey-ness? In a word, absence. Something must be missing in order to create a hole. What belongs is gone, leaving a noticeable gap.
Holes appear in the fabric of life when something or someone is torn out. Your health goes south; your hairline recedes north; your job migrates east; your better half moves west—without you.
This absence can be planned and neat—like a buttonhole—or unexpected and ragged—like a bullet hole. Kids grow up, move out, and start their own families—buttonhole. A spouse or child dies—bullet hole.
Holes come in various sizes. Some can be stitched shut, filled in, scarred over. Other voids remain vacuums, despite nature’s abhorrence.
Live long enough and you will become holey.
Surviving is the tricky part.