Broken door, day 2
Captain’s log: Broken front door, day 2, hour 16
We’ve all settled into our grim routines, accepting things as they are to the extent that we need to. It takes more than a simple stuck front door to keep this family down.
To an outsider, things would probably look totally normal, but they’re not. Everything’s just a little off somehow, even though it would be hard to put into words. Someone from the “outside world” would probably just say, “Your routines are always different on Sunday.” Which is true, granted. But that also seems pretty convenient when you think about it.
Or maybe they’d say it’s because it’s raining, and that would be true as well – everything looks and feels differently in the high desert while it’s raining. There are wonders going on outside right out side my front door, fragrances and blooming flowers and birdsong, that I can now only witness through windows that are very close to the front door. Or by going out a different door and walking around the house. Which just isn’t the same thing, at least until I’ve finished waking around the house.
Honestly, I’m really appreciating the location of the front door in completely new ways now that it doesn’t work any more. I can’t believe how long and how often I’ve taken it for granted. I have to admit, the name really says it all. “Front,” because it’s in the front of the house, and “door,” because it’s a convenient, recloseable hole we can come and go through when we choose. The many other doors and windows in the house just don’t have that special thing, mostly any kind of fronty location.
I awoke resolved to get us out of here. Even if it means using one of the several other entrances to the house, which all still work perfectly fine.
Two days ago, I could never picture myself saying, “Hey, I’m going to go to the hardware store, and I’m leaving through the back door.” Never. The people I live with would have had questions, like, “What? I can’t hear you over the dishwasher,” and, “What are you talking about?” and things of that nature, and my answers might not have even made sense.
That was then.
Something like this changes you. Afterwards you probably change right back, but for now, some kind of change.
After I’ve gotten something to eat, and after the rain has stopped, and after whatever else I can think of that I feel like doing first like maybe reading for a while, fixing that door is one of the first things I’m going to do. It might be time to eat again by then though, so I’d still probably do that first. This front door situation is not something you’d want to tackle on an empty stomach.