The Door

Everyday is the same, I wake up, take a shower, put my clothes on, and get ready for the day. Then I  try to play with the kids, and attempt to eat breakfast when time allows.

But, then in a blink of an eye I have to face you.

I have to stare you down and find the courage inside to turn that little round knob that you hold, with all it's glimmer and glory, yet I dislike the very thought of reaching out and grasping it.

Now, if but for a moment I think of what extending my hand means. It means that I have to leave my family behind and walk into the world outside, it means that by walking through that threshold I have to miss my children growing up, it means that I have to say goodbye to the ones that I hold most near and dear to my heart.

Door in this moment, if I were able, I would fight, I would tell you no and stand up to you in the very way I protect my family. But deep down I know I must go, I must take that step into the world and leave the ones I love behind.

Yet somehow and in someway you figure out how to make up for this. You are always there, sturdy and strong, bold and ready.

Always ready to stand in the face of danger, always protecting always watching. You hold the ones inside that I dread to leave everyday. When I come home you are the first thing that I see and for some reason that calms the raging storms that blow around me.

I know what's behind you and I know what you hold inside.

Door although I despise opening you in the morning, I love reaching for your glowing/shimmering handle in the evening, where my wife and kids wait, ever so patiently for my return. Without fail you open up like a raging river, pouring out a life full of love and laughter, with a wife and children that always want to wrap their arms around me, just to show me that they missed me.

Once inside I shut you and forget about you until I have to face you again the next day. Door although I dread you in the morning, I love walking through you when the day is done.

- Daniel Baker