A Door in the Dark

We stood at the door in the dark -- the boys, Trudy and I. I turned the key but the door would not open. I tried the other way to no effect. The boys and Trudy stood nervously behind me.

It was late. We had just driven up in a car with out-of-state plates. The house had no number posted, but from the directions it seemed like the right one.

Umm... Is this the right house? asked George.

If I had turned around, I am sure he would have been nervously eyeing the house next door. In fact, it seemed like they were all distancing themselves from my fiddling with the key in the door.

To the side of the door, there were two windows: one to the left, one to the right. I could see a light inside. I looked into one and into the living room.

Yes it is, I answered George with no further hesitation, for although I had never been to this place, what I saw inside made me sure.

Thru the doors I could see pictures and furniture and deckies and things that spoke to me out of the past. There were etchings leaning against the wall. There was an antique wooden table. The there was a rocking chair that I knew well from Easters and Christmases past.

Yes this is the right house, I repeated with certainty. I know all the stuff inside.

I turned the key again. The door opened. And we went inside.

---
London, KY. Summer 2003

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