Waiting for Bull's Eye

The purpose of a door, I suppose is to keep things out.  Wayward strangers.  Bad weather.  Nosy investigators from Child Protection.  Critters, too, of course: Momma don’t want no skunks and coons trailing inside to bear their young behind the wood burning stove.  I guess a door is a barrier; a kind of plastic wrap designed to keep the inhabitants inside safe.

That’s the way it’s supposed to work, anyhow.

Our door is a painted soft green on the inside.  Momma painted it; says it recollects to her mind the first buds of spring.  Momma needs such reminders: She ain’t been outside in fifteen years.
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