The open door

On Tuesday morning, I dropped off my daughter Natalie early at the middle school for a girls’ choir. This was about 7:10 a.m. School does not start for another hour. The parking lot was mostly deserted, save for a few cars belonging to early arriving teachers and staff. As I dropped her off and wished her an excellent day, she asked that I wait to see that she safely entered the mostly locked school through an unlocked side door. Of course, I would wait.

She opened the door, entered the school and started her long day with song. She did not turn to look back at the car. She did not look back at the car. She did not look back. She did not.

How many open doors – literal and metaphorical – have I seen her walk through in her short 11 years on this planet? I vividly recall dropping her off at preschool, waiting in the hallway for the door to open to the warm and nurturing class. The door would open, and I would walk her into her cubby. I would bid her farewell for the morning, but not before she clung tightly to my legs and maybe shed a few tears. She did not want me to leave. She did not want her open door to close on me. But alas it did, and the door – her door -- was opened to her new world of activities and play and learning in a loving preschool setting.

That was 7 and 8 years ago, that open door. In the blink of an eye, we have fast-forwarded to the open door at the middle school in the early morning. How many open doors have there been in between? In 7 and 8 years from now, will I be waiting for other open doors for my baby girl as she enters adulthood? What will those doors be, and where will they lead?

As parents and coaches and teachers and mentors and husbands and wives, we can and we should strive to hold open those doors. We need to teach our children, our runners, our friends, our siblings, our spouses -- all whom we love in this life -- to stride with purpose through all of life’s open doors. If there needs to be a desperate, last-minute clinging hug before flinging open that door, we will be there.

And when our little girl turned big girl turned grown woman goes through that door, and does not look back -- not even for a quick glance -- maybe we will smile and we will cry at the same time. On the other side of that open door.