Photo A Day, Day 21: Close

The word “close” can be pronounced two ways, with correspondingly different meanings. Said with a soft, hissing “s” at the end, it is an adjective meaning “near” or “intimate” or “secretive.” But pronounced with a hard “s,” a buzzing “z” sound at the end, it is a verb meaning “shut” or “obstructed” or “inaccessible.” There are many moments during an average day when I could illustrate the former meaning: snuggling in bed with my kids when they come in to greet me in the morning, hugging my husband when he gets home after a long day of work, wrestling on the couch with the kids before bedtime. But one of the most wonderful parts of my day refers to the latter meaning: it happens when I put the kids to bed and close the door to their bedroom.

That simple word “close” represents such freedom. Close the door to having to be on alert at all times. Close the door to concentrating on someone else instead of myself. Close the door to wearing the “mom” hat. Close the door to making sure that everyone has eaten and used the bathroom and read the proper books and found the right toys.

Don’t get me wrong; I love being a mom. I love being on alert, on concentrating on others, and wearing the “mom” hat. I even love making sure that everyone has eaten and used the bathroom and read a book and enjoyed a toy. But I also love that moment when I can close off that part of me and just be me. The me which has a part that’s a mom, but also a part that’s a wife, and a part that’s a singer, and a part that’s a writer, and a part that’s a seamstress, and a part that’s a bookworm. There are many parts of me on the other side of that door, and all I have to do to find them is to close it.

Photo A Day, Day 18: Mirror

Being a writer rather than a photographer, I usually use the Photo-A-Day topic as inspiration for making some point about parenting, or family, or life, or for sharing some event that has happened to me. And even just a few hours ago, I fully intended to use today’s topic of “mirror” to show my children’s fascination with themselves and their faces and their bodies. I planned to take a few photos of them making faces in the mirror as they got ready for bed, or solemnly watching themselves brushing their teeth before bath time, as is their wont. But I got caught up in the usual routine and forgot to bring my camera upstairs until it was too late. So before I went to bed myself, I figured I’d see if I could catch an angle of my bathroom mirror that might reflect the toys and youthful detritus that inevitably remains scattered about after their bath. But before I got there, I walked through the darkened kitchen and this shadowed image, reflected in a different bathroom mirror, caught my eye.

I love the repeated rectangles, the echoing of the shape of the drooping tulip on its stem in the shadow of the doorknob and the soap dispenser at the bottom of the mirror. I love the tiny hint of blue in the door that shows it’s not a black-and-white photograph. I love the geometric lines shooting off at different angles. It’s just a mirror, a door, and a picture of a tulip, but the aesthetics bring a pleasure far beyond the mere subject.

Sometimes a picture doesn’t need to tell a story. Sometimes it just needs to be a mirror.

June 11 Photo: Door

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.