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Writer's pictureRiver Jordan

Secret Doors




These days. I am thinking of things we keep locked away. I have always loved keys. The concept of a key that unlocks secret doors and gardens. Great big skeleton keys, rings of keys of my Daddy's, the key to the old money box at the creek. The keys of mythology. The keys to the kingdom, the secret, the heart. This is the great secret everyone seems to bear. The secret of themselves, their very lives, the heart of who they are. And I think Of how we leave our homes and put on brave faces as we go out into the world. How I know that a kind word to a stranger unexpected, can bring people to tears. In a split second. From - Thank you to shopping at . . . to tears. And tears are always followed by a story. One that begins with - You, don't know how much I needed to hear that. I am aware of the locked doors that we present to people when we go out into the world. How maybe just being more open to our common humanity when we look upon one another might be worth something. I have always considered myself a private person so I understand this side of us. But I am fully aware behind every cashier, bartender, priest, bank teller, teacher - all - there is the deep story going on. Behind the - I'm fine, thank you - so many people are lonely as can be even in the midst of life their family/spouse/friends. Or frightened by a medical report, or suffering in some silent way. Perhaps the bravest face we can put on as we walk out our days is the truth of us. Because I never have understood loving anyone as myself. I wouldn't want to put that kind of criticism and judgement and expectation on anyone. It's an unattainable standard. But walking into the world as myself. Unlocked. Transparent. Real. That's at least something I can aspire to do.

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