We are dumb creatures. Quickly lulled by the relentless sameness of most days, we forget the basic truth that life is not a gentle hill that we climb, but an erratic windstorm. Sometimes pushing us along with bright, lively winds, or as inescapably without breath as the fearsome doldrums, other times a howling fury. In hindsight, always a twisted path.
The point being, is the slap of news. Real news. The kind that changes the trajectory of your life.
The kind that makes our mouths hang open, or our throats contract. Love spoken. Tragic accidents. Promotions. Births cross-thread by deaths. Illnesses named. Jobs ended. These jolts feel like a ship sharply tugging on an anchor and confirm the Zeppelin-fused truth that upon us all a little rain must fall.
Doors can open suddenly.
“You got the house.”
Clutching a ridiculous piece of white plastic. Puzzled face. “Wait, is this a . . . are you pregnant?”
Tears streaming from the first sting of a layoff. With the comic proclamation “Well, we’re fucked now.”
“You better sit down.”
“I got the job.”
“I’ve been promoted.”
“I’m getting a bonus.”
“I’m in charge.”
“I need to lay people off.”
“I think I need to quit.”
“There’s been an accident.”
“They’re splitting up.”
“They’re getting married.”
“It’s a girl.”
“I found a lump.”
Sometimes the door is in the floor, and it swallows you whole. “I think my Mom is dead.”
The solace is knowing the simple truth that a door is a door. By definition an opening from one place
to another. A portal. Sometimes an entrance and sometimes an exit, but always a transition threshold. Yes, sometimes doors open suddenly, but in those jags is the singular trail of your life.
