Portalogy

Over the summer of 2001, I had the opportunity of a lifetime. I was selected as one of 40 visual arts students from the state of Virginia to attend Governor's School. There were also students in humanities, drama, dance, and music. It was a month long stay at Richmond University, with classes, field trips, concerts, and dances. We got to choose our courses, and after all these years the one that  sticks with me the most was "Portalogy," or [the made up word for] the study of entryways. We had a lot of fun in that class, and even made matching t-shirts to show our "portal pride."

 Entryways are found everywhere in art and literature. They can mean change, an opportunity, moving forward, an adventure, death, an end. We just replaced our front door today, which I guess got me thinking about all this. In a way, I feel like we just said goodbye to a dear friend.
Six summers after that idyllic month in Richmond, Benjamin and I stepped through the front door of our new home for the first time. Paul and I had just finished signing the zillions of closing papers, and from there he'd headed straight to work. Because of complications with closing, I had about an hour window between the time I first walked into our new home, and the time our moving truck would arrive. So with 14 month old Benjamin in tow, I raced around, removing as much of the garbage as I could that the previous owner left behind (even random stuff like beer in the fridge). There was no time for thoughtful planning and dreaming.

 I feel like that rushed frenzy sort of typified our early years in this house. By today's financial wisdom, we should not have been given a mortgage straight out of college for zero down. But we were excited to be done with school, excited to have a job, and excited to start this new life away from our families in a house of our own.
We made a lot of mistakes. Besides the risky mortgage, the biggest one by far was the gutters. No one told us that the minute you buy a home, salesmen hunt you down like hyenas. Our door saw a lot of them. We hadn't been in our home for more than a few months when we were artfully convinced that our home needed new gutters, and it was urgent. It didn't matter that we had no money saved for said gutters. Honestly, we were like little kids playing house, but with real money (or I suppose credit) instead.
That door was a part of our expanding family. It was the one we left our precious firstborn behind as we headed to the hospital -somewhat terrified- to have our second child. Poor Grandma, who was left behind that door with the two year old terror.

When we came back through that door, we were transformed. Somehow, our love for Benjamin remained the same, but we had found even more room in our hearts for little Peter as well. 

 That door was there when we brought our first little girl home, with a new kind of love that you can only have for a daughter.

That door was there then we brought our fourth child through it, another sweet little girl. We weren't sure how we could all fit, but there seemed to be enough room once we tried.

 That door was my physical protection when Paul would leave on business trips. There was a billboard that I often saw on my way back from the airport after dropping him off, that seriously induced panic. It said something like "Wanted: Bruce Sawhill...wanted for rape, murder..." As soon as I got home, that deadbolt was my best friend! :)
The mail slot of that door saw a weird (borderline creepy) pamphlet about kidnapping and child safety come through it from our paranoid schizophrenic neighbor (who about a year prior had abruptly disavowed any contact with us via text). That was shortly after Nora's birth.

 That door served to welcome family and friends, who became increasingly more important to us as the loneliness of living on our own settled in.

 That door marked the place where excited children and a tired Daddy would reunite after a long day of work.

 That door stood silently by as our family grew and played and fought and hugged.

 That door was integral to our holiday traditions, whether it was a jingly Christmas wreath or a Halloween monster.

 That door finally lost our trust when it nearly severed Nora's finger off. I don't think our relationship with that door has ever quite been the same since. It was too heavy, too old, too dangerous.

 I think the straw that broke the camel's back was when that door started blowing open on really windy days. You literally had to dead bolt it if you wanted it to stay shut. On the upside, carrying in groceries or sleeping babies was a breeze, since all you had to do was push it open. We knew it was time to replace it with something about 65 years younger.

I have to say, this new door is a lot prettier! I think it really accentuates the existing built-ins nicely.

And the black exterior looks great with our shutters.

But I'm sorry door. You're the new kid, and you just don't get it. You had to be there.