The Door to Home
A smile sits upon her face as she prances down the street, phone in her pocket, headphones nowhere on her person. She left those at home, having no need for them, as the world is the soundtrack to her life and every person she meets is another player in this game. Her gaze doesn’t sit in one location for long, not even on the ground at her feet. Everything fills her with wonder and joy, even the things she passes on her daily walk to the school: the same old trees and the same old street signs with the same old buildings and roads. She has seen everything along this path a million times over, yet everything is always new and different each time she passes it.
The ten minute walk, what feels like an eternity to some people, ends before she realizes that it even began. It feels as if she had stepped out her door and immediately found herself at the foot of the school building, despite having taken in everything that she saw along the path. As she reaches the front door of the building, another student pulls up beside her. She quickly pulls out her student ID, doubling as a key card to enter the building, and scans it at the lock, holding the door open for her fellow student. His thanks sets her heart a-soaring, for nothing feels better than to help another out.
She fairly skips up the steps, her backpack bouncing lightly and joyfully on her back as she takes each step carefully on its own. Rounding the small curve at the top of the staircase, she enters the long hallway. As people approach her coming from the opposite direction, she flashes them her signature grin and greets them warmly. They gladly return the favor. A warm greeting, she likes to say, will always start the day off right, but a cold one will turn it to the darkside. It’s a saying she lives by.
When she reaches the door to her classroom, she hardly even notices the feeling of the door handle in her hand as she swings it open, stepping in simultaneously. She heads directly for the row she always sits in. No one else has arrived yet (she is a little early, after all), but she knows her friends will be there soon. Most of them are just as timely as herself, though she likes to chuckle about those of her friends who tend to be more on the opposite end of the spectrum. Everyone has their flaws, right? Not being timely is most certainly not the worst possible flaw to exist, so she easily accepts it in others. Who is she to judge?
Soon, the door swings open to reveal her friends, flooding into the room one after the other right behind each other. She grins widely and greets them all by name. Brogan. Gabriel. Jesse. Megan. Mary. Clarissa. She makes sure that she doesn’t forget a single one of them. And they all return the favor, a chorus of hellos and his filling the air around her in a warm embrace. She feels at home. She feels wanted and welcome.
These people? They are her home, and she, or so she believes, is theirs.
Prompt: Describe how you wish you entered through the door.