The Door
I'm a big believer in:
You have to close the door.
Lock it. 🔒
And throw away the key. 🔑
But it's not that easy, is it?
In the last few years I've written about it many times. How I was going to close the door and walk away.
Yet, how many times have I written "the door is open, again?"
Just as many…
How do you keep the door closed?
I don't know. My foot doesn't seem to be big enough…
And now that I think about it, maybe it's not about throwing that key.
Maybe it's about being okay with leaving the door open.
I say I don't want to look back, and I want to move forward.
But maybe I should look back.
Maybe I should stop. Look around. And see where I'm going — and find a way to be okay, and even proud, of where I've been.
After all, I had to be there to be here.
Maybe I keep putting my foot on that door, forcing it closed, when I should just let it fly open.
Hell. Maybe I should just take it down.
And put in a window.
A big one.
Panoramic.
So I can see everything more clearly.
