In the middle of nowhere on a nothingspecial day.
My elbow rested against the driver side door shell and my wrist propped up my chin. I watched as my teenager entered the convenience store in pursuit of a Powerade- one of those strange ice blue colored drinks that promise to replenish electrolytes for twice the price of water.
A normal brain would likely use the moment to detwirl its thoughts but instead mine became fixated on the door. Yes- the door. To a convenience store. In the middle of nowhere on a nothingspecial day.
I watched men and women- masked and unmasked- go through the door. Some raced in and some raced out. Some caught the door right as it was about to close and wriggled inside in the nick of time. Some hustled in and then seemed to remember at the last minute to check if another individual was behind them and held the door until they entered. Still others- tied in both their pace and cadence- reached the entrance simultaneously. Often, one would hold the door open for the other and then stepped behind to enter.
Suddenly, I was thinking of other doors, all doors. Heavy doors, screen doors, elevator doors, automatic doors. Doors, doors, doors. The way they slam, the way they open and shut, the way we pass through them a million times a week.
Thoughts twirling in the middle of nowhere on a nothingspecial day.
It’s possible that how we enter through a doorway reflects our deeper systemic view of life. I did a quick self-reflection.
Am I a “hustler”- someone who races in and races out- so intent on my own mission that I pass by others without so much as a glance? Do I enter driven by my own self-centered needs but then become aware of others’ pursuits once I see them before me? Do I approach a door with every expectation that it will open before me automatically, require no effort on my part, and allow me easy access to all that lies within? Or am I courteous, approaching slowly and ready (even hoping) to open the door for another and hold it open until they pass through, thereby giving them a passage of respect, regarding their dignity, recognizing that they have their own purpose for being there- Just. Like. Me.
We often hear the adage- where one door closes, another opens. I propose that where one door opens, we do well to recognize how we enter it. Are we in such a haste that we are neglectful of others and their needs? Do we let doors slam on people, forcing them to struggle and exert unnecessary pressure to re-open a door whose inertia is now working against them? Do we stand passively on the inside and watch as a door shuts on another, thereby signaling misplaced pride and suggesting that the "other" does not qualify for even simple courtesies?
To hold the door open for someone is to say silently, “You matter. I see you. Your mission is as important as mine… maybe even more important. Go ahead, enter, make your way.”
My teenager returned to the car, plopped into the passenger seat, and buckled his seat belt.
“Don’t slam the door,” I said quietly.
In the middle of nowhere on a nothingspecial day.