One of the ones that doesn’t work in this house, that old familiar doorknob, opens to my baby’s room, where he wakes and slams the rail against the hardwood walls. It won’t be long before he throws one leg over the edge and sinches out, another ninja finding his silent skills.
When he pulls open on the knob, he’ll come to look for me. I’ll be sleeping, tending to another silent thing, or making small clinks at the dishes. I’ll scoop him up and say NoNo and put him again behind the rails, and I’ll know he’ll escape over and over until I decide to put him nearer to the floor and grant him access to all the doorknobs in this house.
We make decisions every time we turn a knob. We make them every time we push a button. I wonder where his mind will go, what will lead him on, what doors he’ll walk past, stumble through, or hunt tooth and nail for the keys.
Right now, I am a gatekeeper. I am a nightwatcher. I am an alarm system, a deeply coded sensor. This is my house, and another few open doors, and my babies will move from it, deciding, hearing knocks, and opening up. In their own houses, the den for their souls, already stands one knocking.
for Emily @ Chatting at the Sky.