This is our front door. Besides saying "Welcome to our house," it tells a lot of other things, too. It says there were loads of popsicles eaten and dripped there this summer. It displays Scott's new foliage arrangements, saying we're ready for fall. The door, with its unfinished brushstrokes says Circe is great at getting projects 90% finished. You can see we have a cat who lives outside. Above the door, lettering on the window reads, "Love is spoken here," because that's what I hope.
Doorsteps are a place for hope, love and friendship. Coming home, my first glimpse of the doorstep can make my heart surge, if I catch sight of a brightly wrapped gift or a plate of cookies from a neighbor or a package that was too big to fit in the mailbox. It's a place to slip an invitation or a thank-you note under the mat or in the doorjamb. Sometimes I find a book I've lent, or a bowl returned. The other day, I dropped off a little red Croc on Sarah's doorstep. When I got home, Sarah had hung a bag of Ari's clothes on our doorknob. Those are the mundane and simple symbols of friendship that anchor us to what matters. Ripples on the surface of deep waters.
The doorstep is also a place of anticipation. It's where you wait for the reaction of the person on the other side of the door. I hope to be the kind of person who opens the door wide. I hope to smile, to welcome you in, to offer you something to make you feel like you never even needed to knock. You could have walked right in. Even if my doorstep is messy, or the cat has left a gorey gift on the mat, or there's chaos inside, I hope my friends and family believe, standing on my doorstep, that when the door swings open, something good is about to happen.
When you ring my doorbell, please believe three things: Sometimes the windows really are clean, sometimes you don't have to trip over bikes to get here, and always, always, I'm so glad you're standing there. Just wait one more second while I throw some of these shoes and homework papers in the basket. Because there's one more thing I want you to believe: That the home inside my doorstep is never less than perfect. If you don't believe that, well, you must be someone who knows me pretty well, and that's better than believing in perfection.
8 comments:
Mmmmm, another wonderful Circe post! Such lovely ideas!
Scott just reminded me of all the dates that will end and the good-night kisses that will happen on our doorstep in years to come. Yikes!
Nah, the windows might put a damper on doorstep scenes.
I love hanging out at your doorstep. You are such a great writer. The little red croc image brought tears to my eyes. oh my.
A beautiful and inviting place. I love the saying "Love Is Spoken Here". We also have it in our entryway.
Lovely. Your home has always been one of my favorite places!
CIRCE..HI IT'S JUDY..I HAD TO RESPOND TO YOUR WONDERFUL MESSAGE ABOUT YOUR FRONT DOOR AND WHAT IT SAYS ABOUT THE HOME INSIDE{MICHELLE TOLD ME TO READ YOUR BLOG}..FROM A MOM WHO HAS KNOWN YOU A LONG TIME YOU MUST WRITE A BOOK. YOU HAVE GREAT GIFT AND TALENT AND YOU NEED TO USE IT FOR MORE THAN YOUR BLOG. LOTS OF LOVE ..JUDY
There is no doubt that your doorstep is one of the warmest places on the planet, with only your home and your heart being warmer.
I can't tell you how much it means dropping off my sweet little boy at that doorstep 5 times a week, while he presses his nose on the glass know he's going someplace where he is loved unconditionally, and where adventure waits at every turn.
whether it is or isn't less than perfect depends on how you define perfect, because I've never been even close to your home without feeling perfectly welcome, perfectly loved, and perfectly cared for; and I can't imagine what other definition of perfect matters.
Post a Comment