A door is a pretty utilitarian kind of thing. It’s meant to
keep out burglars, insects, snow, and neighborhood cats. It’s meant to keep in
heat, small children, and non-neighborhood cats. It is often adorned with
wreaths or flags or a brass knocker or a stained glass window. Some doors have
no windows, some have large windows, and some are nearly all glass. Some doors
lead from one room to another, some lead from outside to inside, and some lead
to cubbies or closets or crawl spaces.
In books and movies, doors can lead to magical or foreign or
even dangerous places and worlds. In the book “The Lion, the Witch, and the
Wardrobe,” a door leads to another world called Narnia. In the book “The Indian
in the Cupboard,” a door leads to the home of a tiny, living person. In the
movie, “Poltergeist,” a door leads to the evil afterlife. In the television
show, “SG-1,” a door leads to other planets. In the movie, “Monsters, Inc.,” a
door leads to a factory where nightmares are made. Human beings are fascinated
with doors and the idea that they can be portals out of our world.
But the best part of the reality of doors is often that they
lead, not to someplace unfamiliar, but to someplace familiar, known, and
comforting. For example, what is a more pleasant sight than your own front door
after a time away from home?
This is my front door. It’s pretty, but it’s also pretty
ordinary. It’s a bright, cheerful shade of green, and has lace curtains in the
window panels on each side. There’s a welcoming mat on the step in front and an
American flag hanging above. Sometimes there’s a holiday wreath or other
decoration hanging on it. But basically, it’s just a door. And that doesn’t
stop it from being an incredibly welcome sight when I come home. Because it’s
my door, and it’s the portal to my home, and that’s better than any other world
I can imagine going into.
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