Day 14: Doorways

This is what I see from my front doorway. Only, I nearly didn't see it at all.

I've spent this past week scrutinizing doorways like never before (and one hopes, never again.)

Turns out, I own 23 of them.

On Day 7 of this theme, there's not much I don't know about these swingers (ahem, doorways).

For example.

11 are white
6 are brown
4 are metal
One is gray
One is a darling pink
4 have glass panes
3 are garage doors
2 are barn doors
12 are solid wood
11 are painted
13 have doorknobs
2 have deadbolts
2 have latches

I've inspected. Scrutinized. Examined.

I know the texture of their wood. The way they fall open and shut. How they look in morning light. How they look with rivulets of rain water channeling their way to the ground.

I know these doors.

So on the final day of this theme it seemed to me The Front Door deserved its place in the spotlight. After all, this door has great character. It's old, possibly over 100 years. It has glass panes. A curious old keyhole. A vintage handle. There is much for making fanfare.

But oh how I wrestled and wrangled with this doorway as it insisted upon, from every angle, being remarkably...unremarkable. It just looked like a door.

And so, after 30 minutes and an equally numerous torrent of mental curse words, I turned in defeated exasperation, plopped down in a rocking chair, looked up and saw...

this.

It seems this particular doorway, the one you'll never see, has this to say:

Sometimes the better view is not where you're looking. It's not found in intently focusing on how you want something to be, or in obsessively examining and scrutinizing the details.

Sometimes, the more worthy view is the view from there, the view you see when you are simply willing to turn around.

And so in the end it appears that the oldest door of all is also the wisest.