Opens and closes.
Shapes and sizes.
Frames and hinges.
Squeaks and clutches.
Doors and windows.
They’re everywhere. They keep things out and they lock things in. More so, they keep people out, but also lock people in. You hear of people burning to death because they can’t get out; babies dying in locked cars because their parents forgot them. As much safety doors and windows brings us, they also puts us in danger of isolating ourselves from the world.
I once (in my older life) broke into a house while the people were sleeping inside. As I turned the knob to the main bedroom, someone on the other side also turned it, saw me, slammed the door close and started screaming, and I took off. That door most probably saved their lives, and whatever possessions they had in their bedroom.
Windows is a personal favorite. From the stained-glass church ones, to the big, shopping mall ones, the ones no woman can resist looking in and adjust her outfit a little. I especially love looking out windows when its raining. The way the drops fall against them with such beauty and fragility, reminds me of life and its beauty and fragility.
Couple of years ago I lived with my brother who had a real anger problem. The slightest of misunderstanding between us would send him to all the windows with an axe or cricket bat. I hated it, but the sound of smashing glass, with anger boiling in my veins, was always somewhat cathartic.
We are never quite fully sure what’s on the other side of a closed door, but we clutch the knob tightly and we open up, and often the best of opportunities are to be awaits us.
The world always looks different from the other side of a window.
Step through that door.
Write something in that window with your breath’s vapor.
Peace to you.