The Girl Who Loved Doors

What you need to understand is that what I write here today doesn't mean it's always been this way or that it will be this way in the future; the door to my inner world has changed and evolved as often as I have. I can recall a time when it was narrow and squeaked loudly due to infrequent use. For years it swung open only at night, and then for just a brief time before it had to be slammed shut again so that I could get a decent night's sleep.

But you don't really need past history, do you? The doorway to my inner world today is what you're curious about and what will gain me entrance to the Cave of the Sibyl. Do you know, it's more beautiful than I ever could have imagined it to be when I was young?

Tall and wide, it's made entirely of glass. Not the plate glass of shop or office doors, but a combination of stained glass, frosted glass and, recently, prism glass. when I'm enthusiastic and pleased with life the stained glass colors appear to be lit from within and sparkle in vivid magentas and bright purples. If I'm introspective and content the frosted glass takes over and glows in soft shades of pink, peach and powder blue. Last week, saddened by the loss of a friend, I was depressed by blacks, grays until I noticed the prisms. Light was still shining through, but only after I studied it carefully and changed my perspective by examining it from different angles could I appreciate its beauty.

Now, as I look forward to a mind-journey with old friends and new, far from the heat and humidity of New Jersey, my doorway is positively scintillating with the light of moonbeams, starshine, and a velvety blue Umbrian sky.