A musician spoke of them on the radio the other night. She said they are the places where what is old has passed away but what is new has not arrived yet. So you stand there at the door. And there is longing, even though you may not be sure what the longing is, yet.
I feel this. Is it because...January? Or is it this new decade which suddenly has four in front of it? Maybe it is the mystery of what will happen with my heart. I've been changing. We all have. I am not done yet. Are you? Pausing feels vital. On the other side of this door is a new way of relating. I do not know myself there, yet.
A soft knob waits for my touch to turn and unlatch its metal tongue from a small groove in the frame where a one-inch opening holds what is known safely on this side. Here, I can tell you exactly what I would have said. Here, I can tell you exactly how you would have responded. But there? I don't know for sure. Anything could be.
It will be different. We are not the same anymore.
So we stand here at the door. And there is longing, even though we may not be sure what the longing is, yet.