Weathered doors...

The house I live in now was the house I lived in when I was born. Besides here,there is only one other place I have ever called home. My mother had this house built. She and my dad then added on to it later. It holds almost all of my memories from my childhood. There is a great deal of emotional attachment connected to it.

The front doors to the house are two huge wooden panels. Inside there are two chains on the door. I always keep the chains on when we are there (and of course when we aren't.) Lately, each time I chain or unchain the door I see the little nicks that the chain has taken out of the door over the last 36 years. I think about what was going on in the house at the time the nicks were placed. I think of how old my mother was when the first nick was made. I imagine happy times, like when I was first brought home from the hospital, and sad times like when my granny died. I also think about the last time she let the chain go and the nick it might have made. Even though I don't know which little mark it is, I know it is there.

There is so much history in those two doors. Trad would like to replace them, but I don't want to.. There is nothing wrong with them other than they are weathered and worn. They are very sentimental to me.

I like to think about the history of things, what was going on in the world when this or that was built, or who did what or when. I guess that is why I think about the doors so much. Maybe my daughter will do the same thing with those doors one day. Wondering what I was thinking or doing when those little nicks were made.