A few weeks ago I was out on a walk with Madden enjoying the morning sun. The summer smells enveloped us as we strolled leisurely around the neighborhood, I pushing the stroller and he dozed, in and out of attendance.
On one nearby street I spotted this unique gate, and inviting flora. I could say “we” but he was snoozing at that point, or come to think about it he was likely just waking, making noises that inspired me to give him his bottle. Babies can do that.
The gate provided a doorway and was guarding the front entrance of the home, maybe not quite guarding the front door but protecting the grounds approaching the door. Perhaps creating a retreat the owners relished as much as I yearned for my holy place. Establishing a sanctuary of sorts, protected from the outside world and yet providing all the comfort and peace such a space could afford. An oasis in the desert of city living.
I was immediately intrigued. What’s behind the Gate I wondered. Does the enclosed space carry the same coziness and natural feel that the gate inspires. Is it really a nirvana behind there, or is it only a facade that teases the mind and imagination into believing in something that really isn’t there? I have to know.
So I’ve made an agreement with myself, and you too I guess, that on my next visit I will make another trip to the home. I will walk up to the entrance, along the gravel path, hearing my footsteps crunch as I approach. I will take in the aromas of the flowers and greens and in anticipation I will approach the portal. I will knock, tentatively, and if appropriate will push gently on the wooden structure and peer inside. I have to know, what’s inside The Gate.