Until this past two years I never realized the power of the lowly doorknob. Worn fake brass, scuffed and scratched. A lock that sticks.
But it has been my savior.
During quarantine, my escape route.
During better times, the pathway to my second office outside.
During worse times, the pathway to my quiet refuge.
In summer, birds and greenery. Growth.
In winter, snow and cold. Hibernation.
I think about swapping it for a new set – a fancy sleek handle and lock. But I’ve grown accustomed to its feel. It’s gentle resistance before allowing my exit.
It is Safety. Comfort.
Home.