Scratching at the door

Scratching at the door

A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of.
– Ogden Nash



It’s not just dogs Mr. Nash. It’s me. 

For my whole life, I’ve always wondered what’s on the other side of the door. Like a horse pushing his head through the narrow slats in the fence, the grass does seem greener. 

It’s made for a life or discontent, or a life of wonder. It kind of depends. I think there is a spark in the mind’s eye that comes alive with the child. It’s an amazement in the world around us that makes a child both amazingly interesting and terribly frustrating. 
According to my mother, I got lost as a four-year old. I had wandered off to the neighbors house after a dog. And then it was to another neighbors to inspect a bicycle on the lawn. And then it was chasing a grasshopper until a wise woman scooped me up and deposited me back home. 

Even now, when I’m with family or friends and we’re on a mountain road and a fork forces me into a decision, 9 times out of ten, I’ll pick the rocky, dirt road over the paved. I just want to see, want to experience, want to know the unknowable. It drives my family crazy — but always gives them memories and stories to retell.  Even as an adult, I’ve been lost in the wilderness because I wanted to see beyond the ridge, or around the corner. Wide-eyed and not so smart at times.

There is a danger in this too. It’s lost me relationships, and diverted focus at work, and killed off friendships. It’s cost me time when I should be dedicated,  cost me money when I should be invested, and cost me depth when i should I have dug in for the long haul.

It takes some wisdom I suppose to know when I should scratch at the door or when I should just curl up and contently sleep. 

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