Award Winning Writing by Sarah Avink
The painting pictured on the left is … After “Alvaro and Christina” by Andrew Wyeth
“A door should make an impression,” he said as he lovingly layered the azure paint on my oak grain with his broad brush. “It’s the last thing that we see as we push out into the world each day and the first thing to embrace us when we return home.” You thought it extravagant, and that his time would have been better put to use by fixing the roof or gathering wood for the stove. After all, so much needs to be done when settling into a home. But later I saw you glance around the worn, dim room and then at me with a faint appreciative smile.
At first my vibrant color drew cheerful comments from the occasional guest, and children passing by would often run up and place their small hands on my blue hue warmed by the midday sun, their lilting laughter carried by the breeze. But as the days slid into months and new days spiraled into the everyday, I became commonplace, if not invisible. Not as vivid as I once was and marked by time passing, eventually not much thought was given to me. I know that I am only the portal, not the destination. My wood is not nearly as important as that which hid marksmen and took down an empire, or as encompassing as those that surround you and protect you from the wind and the rain. You simply pass through me on your way to your life. In and out, in and out, over and over again, as the memories of your existence are created. And although I may be but a small part of the memories of your life here, the memories of you are what I cherish. And I will remember.
