I have a closet labeled “do not open, under any circumstance, ever.”
On the uppermost corner of that deep wooden door lies a little slot, just wide enough to cram feelings into. I visit that closet regularly, bringing packages labeled “do not open.” Gingerly I open the panel, preparing to hold back the floodgate. They try to leave, but I shove one more morsel in there, slam the slot and walk away- dusting my hands.
But just recently, I’ve noticed a faint discoloration in the cracks and along the edges. Something is seeping past my defenses.
Today I heard a splinter and ran to that room. Struck with awe, I watch cascades of feelings and color rush out of that dull door and flow over me. I feel my heart swelling in its starved state- you are allowed to feel. You are allowed to hope. You are allowed to wonder.
And I feel blissfully whole.
