As I have walked the streets of Spello and Assisi, I am intrigued by doors. Each one is a bit different from the next, even on the same street you can have doors that are beautifully carved, shiny and strong, and those that are worn with rusting hinges. I'm intrigued by the way doors can mirror how we are feeling--shiny and happy, strong, weathered and tired, short and insignificant, open in anticipation of what's next, and worn down. I'm also intrigued by the doors we choose to open and the doors we close.
Beautifully carved doors, with a shiny patina have me imagining Marcello Mastroianni behind these doors in a smoking jacket talking on his cell phone to his inamoratta. Shiny doors give us the impression that whoever is behind that door will be shiny too, with the perfect family and the perfectly styled home.
I call this one the Hobbit door, it's about 4 feet tall, and I'm not sure anyone lives behind this door, but it's intriguing to think about them, whether they are piccolino or alto. Can't imagine our son Ryan ducking under this doorway every day. Sometimes we can all feel short, or small or insignificant, and I felt that way about this door.
To me, weathered doors represent the journey through life; we start off shiny, and gradually we weather, yet we try to remain strong through the storms that life throws us. The doors we choose to open is also a question that I think about; are we always drawn to the shiny things in life, or do we stop to investigate the more weathered, possibly more interesting, and enriching paths?
As I have been here in Italy, I've had time to reflect on my life at home---I'm missing Dr. C. a lot, but I don't miss the din of 24 hour news, and the need to be constantly doing something. Tonight it's raining, and cold outside, it's lovely and warm in my piccolino apartamento and I don't feel the need for anything else (except Dr. C). I'm hoping I can take home some of what I'm living through here and incorporate it into my daily life. I sure do love the simplicity.