April 23, 2015
Time and the Door
I used to think that I wanted to go back in time..
Just to visit for a day or two. To my own
Earlier time, not to very long ago.. not to a long ago century..
or to the time of timeless lovers Juliet and Romeo.. but to
my own, sometimes foolhardy youth.
I pictured time as a big, solid oak door..
Maybe painted a lovely shade of blue like the sky
But with a small window that I could see through,
So I could see where I was going, and what I would 'fix'
If only I could. In my imaginings.. the window in this
Door had bevilled glass. My visions were smudged. The figures unclear.
And this oak door was heavy. It was heavy as I felt a snow
Covered mountain would be to move. Beautiful faces carved on my
Side of this door in the present. Faces of family and friends as they are.
Looked through window three more times thinking it's magic.
What is the password to easily open this door? Love? A color, perhaps?
What color is the past? A deep violet? A vivid, passionate, loving red?
A warm shade of green? The color of a lovely yellow rose?
The color of friendship? I miss my grandparents and long to talk to them.
But they are elsewhere. Still in our shared past.. in my memory.
Not on the other side of this heavy weighted door. I look for
Their beautiful faces carved in the door, and there they are.
I see them. On my side of the door, and I feel them
In my heart.
I can't go back. Door too heavy. And nothing to be fixed. Or changed.
Goodness and life are on my side of the door. Savor the memories,
But love the faces of my present. I want to paint the door yellow.
Color of love and joy. And to me, gratefulness.