open doors

Photo by Tim Mossholder on

In the darkness, a soft chiming alarm thankfully releases me from a dream where my money is vanishing. Feeling my way out of the bedroom, stepping over the dog and cushion on my way to the bathroom, my bruised foot throbs much less than yesterday. Only days ago, in the same darkness, trying to avoid the dog (in the same spot), I jammed my little toe full into the door jamb. In the hallway, just as I turned to the bathroom, I was just awake enough to note the open bedroom door. Odd. I close all the doors at night before bedtime to keep the dogs out of them. I flicked on the light, and just as quickly flicked it off again. The bedroom was not unoccupied. “Morning”, our son, thirty-going-on-nevermind mumbled. I’ve got coffee to get, shower and teeth to brush, and it’s still before sunrise. I quit trying to recall why my money was vanishing and if I cared why my toe isn’t bothering me, I am now wondering when the boy-man let himself in. I missed the opportunity to let my wife know not to wander down the hall in her underwear. It is the hazard we (I) adjust to – since at any hour “mom” is always encouraged by her boys.

I should be like that fellow who “leaves the light on” for them. At least I would stub my toe less often.


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