Doors

One would think a door offers a level of protection against the terrors that are outside. We feel this sense of safety when we close it, lock the latch, and step back into our own space.

But there are things that travel through doors, sounds, emotions, that no matter how many we close, still seem to permeate through.

A mother and father shouting three doors away still reverberates in your soul, still causes tears to stream down your face. And while they cannot physically touch you, the pain is still ever present. Cowering behind a door, the knob and lock sucking all your strength away. 

We open doorways into ourselves, pouring vulernabilities into those who step through, and slam it closed when they betray the hospitality we offered. Deadbolts are drawn, walls are patched, carpet refreshed, and furniture moved until we contemplate on unlocking the door and taking a peak.

As we grow older we must make a choice: to build a thicker door, to allow less sound and feelings to bombard us, or to leave the door open. To build more doors in fact, doors to magical places, doors to escape, and screen doors to filter in special parts of the world.

We each have our own door, my door will have the markings and telltale signs of my life, wholy different from yours. But my dream is that each of us keeps a knob on our own door, so that when the storms calm, and that through the smallest of peepholes, we can confirm it's safe, and the door can open again.