Door

A dim light flickers as if caught in the wind at the far end of a long hallway. The pitch black voids my senses except for a growing amber hue, cast faintly toward me. I debate each step, only the creaking hardwood floor convinces me of my progress. My neck hairs bristle as I approach. My tongue dries, wishing to swallow but unable. As I near, the glow takes shape. A stained glass door faces me. The curry pane reveals action on the other side. An outside sun makes shadows dance and sway, illuminating the artwork within the door, creating movement in a design that resembles eternity.

Does my curiosity drive me to open the door or should I retreat back down the dark hall, returning to my meaningless life? The door apparently serves a purpose. The worn handle shows its use by many or at least many times. What adventure begins upon entry?

Depressing the cold lever, I hear the clank of metal upon metal but feel no movement. My stomach tightens, sensing the inevitable, like waiting for the roller coaster to climb the first hill. The hinges squeak as the door pries outward. I glance behind me; light floods the hall making the choice obvious not to turn away.

I step through. The sun warms my face and I smell freshness similar to Colorado air. Beauty inundates my eyes, from brilliant roses growing without thorns to authentic smiles seen as diverse people sing together.

A venerable man makes his way over to me, as I linger at the doorway, and says, “Welcome home.”