A Vague

The doors remain neither open nor closed very long. Often they remind me of other revolving doors that intimidated me as a child.

Although I doubt there are documented cases of anyone being crushed by the gentle movement of a revolving door, the senseless fear lurked in my subconscious until adolescence.

Today is different. There is a communal acceptance when the dignified announcement appears on the mahogany table in the lobby. After learning that once again the door has closed, pilgrims gather in quiet clusters while the warmth of the fireplace glows and gives silent comfort.

There is rarely a warning. At our stage of life, time moves slowly and without much drama.

Even while we briefly contemplate another departure, the revolving door reopens admitting a new companion on this road of life

While there can be no denial of the subtle sense of sadness (always accompanied by fond memories,) acceptance is universal. It is always surprising when I recall earlier emotions that were far more volatile, and I wonder when most of us passed that landmark of life.

Are we weary of living, waiting to be the next in line when the door opens, or perhaps something else provides the invisible armor.

A new strength enables sorrow without any fear or dread of entering the unknown adventure beyond the constantly revolving door.

During this holiday week (when our world was so troubled and the headlines so bleak,) the revolving door opened gently twice within 24 hours. Visible emotions were more of acceptance than a consuming dread of being next.

Instead the warmth of the blazing fireplace seemed to shut out sorrow while replacing it with hope and faith. Possibly it also submerged well hidden curiosity about when and for whom the door will close next.

As I join in watching the vibrant flames persistently lick the logs in the blazing fireplace, no longer do I question when the revolving door wafted away the fears that once controlled my world.

I am merely grateful.