“Behind our unremarkable front door waits the little world of our own making,
a place of safety, exploration, comfort, and love.”
I’ve loved old doors for as long as I can remember.
They’re so heavy and sturdy and somehow always make me feel safe, even if I’m on the outside looking in. I feel happy for whoever lives behind them, thinking it must be awfully nice to have that big ol’ door between them and the outside world.
I like seeing the front doors of people I love. Smiling at the sight of their familiar house number or door knocker or grotty old mat that has been trodden on by innumerable feet and paws.
Pulling up in front of their house or flat gives me a little thrill of excitement, that delicious assurance that soon I will be enveloped in the arms and hearts of people who cherish me as much as I treasure them.
And of course my favorite front door is my very own.
I love coming home after a time away, whether a journey to some far flung locale or simply a day spent running errands in town.
Trudging up worn wooden steps, shooing chickens out of the way, juggling grocery bags while a hyper puppy leaps all over me with unfettered joy at my arrival.
It fills me with inestimable comfort knowing I am home at last. I am where I belong.
Where are your favorite doors?