A door is “a flat, usually rectangular, object that is fixed at one edge and is used to close the entrance to something such as a room, building, or vehicle, or the entrance itself”. That’s the simple Cambridge Dictionary definition. Such a simple and usual object of our daily life. How many doors do we open each day? We start with the one of our room, our little oasis escape from the world. That door may be an old wooden door, or it may be new but still our shield. Then the door of our house. The one that is always open for us, even when it’s closed.
That’s my door house.
An old dark brown wooden reinforced door that opens to me when I’m tired after a long day of work. It’s the one I look forward to seeing while I’m driving back home, because in seeing it I know I’m safe now. It’s the door that keeps my secrets while my parents aren’t at home and the door that protects me from the chaos outside. It is the door that saw tiers and screams, but also smiles and laughs. It is the most hated and loved door of all times, the one you desire and fear the most. It’s the door from where you want to escape when you are 16 because it makes you feel trapped and that’s the door you want to come back to when you are finally free. It’s a door of hope and love, of memories and disappointments. It’s the representation of the people that walked towards you and decide to stay and of those who entered and decided that that door wasn’t right for them. But still, it’s the boss of all front doors. It’s the most beautiful one you can ever look at.
While walking down the streets, front doors are the first thing you notice of a house. Some doors are incredibly luxurious, some are artsy others plain but yet colorful and joyous. Each of them makes you wonder who lives behind them, because at the very end every door is like a frame. A frame which encloses the lives of the people who live in that building, and their lives are like paintings, full of bright colors like in Matisse paintings, or dark ones like in Giotto. Some of them are blurry, you have to walk back from the door to look at the overall beauty, like in Monet’s works. Every time someone walks out or in, in those few seconds you wonder if that frame is the right fit for them. Do they love that door? How they feel about the life they are living behind that door? Maybe it’s just temporary, they are a guest, or maybe they have lived there for decades. Are they tired of it? What I know is that sometimes the frame is more valuable and beautiful than the painting it contains and sometimes an incredible piece of art might have the most simple frame, just like my front door.