There are a lot of doors out there—kitchen doors in soft, cracked yellow paint. Garage doors heavy enough to snap a finger in two—seeming to vie for your index finger every time you carry groceries into the house. Car doors, rotating doors, cabinet doors, front doors, back doors, barn doors, sliding doors, French doors. You get the point.
Then of course there are opportunities. Doors that lead out of a relationship. Doors that land you in a new city. Doors that can change the landscape of the next forty years of your life. Doors into a new career. Doors into someone’s life and doors out of it. Doors that only open for a moment and then are gone.
And you know all this about doors, but have found yourself motionless in a long hallway with doors of every kind on either side of you, and you can’t choose. You can’t choose. Your right hand reaches out to touch the brass knob of an olive green door, but you back away because what if. Ahead of you are red doors with formal knockers, clean glass swinging doors, a curtain in a doorframe, a front door you recognize but can’t remember why. You know that you love hallways, highways between two destinations. You love airplane rides right in the center of the journey’s map. You love movies that require you to sit and be still with nowhere to go. Hallways suit you because you are terrified of moving forward but you cannot go back. You hold all the doors in front of you like a hand of cards. Positive luck is on your side. Fooling the dealer and yourself into thinking you have something that you don’t really have.
It hurts, but it’s true, there will come a time when you’ll have to choose. Left or right. Forward or backwards. You’ll have to choose a home—and it cannot be the word between.