I’ll admit, we haven’t locked the house in years. In fact, I’m not even sure if we still have a key to be honest. When we first moved in we tried to be vigilant and even kept a spare key hanging on a nail in the garage. As the years rolled on, the key disappeared, seemed superfluous, and was never replaced. Who in their right mind would want access to this? Blazing lights long after midnight, muddy shoes, barking dogs, basement band practice, and musical cars – at least the ones that are not up on jacks. Surely this would suffice to hold the boldest intruder at bay. Who would care to breach this haphazardry: a house that rarely dims or settles in silence – a veritable fortress of unpredictability and confusion.
So if the unlikely were to happen despite the odds, what would I miss anyway? Is there anything here that I couldn’t part with? Maybe that coffee mug from our cross country trip to Yellowstone? Or the cuckoo clock that has tapped an easy rhythm to our life? Or the hiking boots which are a snug fit each day I pull them on to step outside? Even so, these small things are just that – small things. The things that matter can’t be retained by our walls and the roof – they’re here, but they can’t be taken.
Beautiful!
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Your questions, and the subsequent listed responses, are fantastic. “Who in their right mind would want access to this?…Who would care to breach this haphazardry?” And yet, as you offer the description of your home, a wonderful, living picture unfolds. And when you enumerate the physical things – the mug, the clock – the descriptions make it clear that their meaning is the memories, not the thing itself. It just all works so well together that, in the end, I would “want access to this” but know I could not get it by stealing your things. Great slice.
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Amanda – Your thoughtful comment almost brought me to tears. I appreciate your pointing out that the reason those small items are so dear to me is the memories and heart invested in each, not their material value. Thank you for validating our chaos by noting that you would want access to it! I am flattered to read your comments. Thank you!
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Whereas I am so paranoid that I lock my apartment door when taking the trash downstairs. I like how you take us through the transition to keyless life and what you would miss.
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I love how you framed this thinking. And I have to admit, the main reason I lock my house is so no one lets my dogs out!!!
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If we didn’t have an invisible fence, I’d be worried about the same thing. Those rascals!
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So much about you here. I see the hustle and bustle and how the inhabitants care deeply for each other not the possessions.
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Thank you for saying this. I tried to portray our life – it means a lot to each of us, and I am happy to hear that sentiment came across.
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