My childhood home, for some, would be considered small. To me, my home was and is perfect. My home is on the south side of the Highway 17B. A deck wraps around the north, west and south side of the house. Growing up, I recall watching cars go by while I sit on the deck in the sun/shade (depending on the time of day).
There are two doors near the front of the house, one on the west side and one on the north side. The door on the north side of the house is a patio door that slides open with a screen over top half of one side of the patio door. When facing inwards, looking inside, you can see the kitchen. From the door, you can see our kitchen table in the centre of the dining area that is on the opposite side of the kitchen counter, which hides the stove. My dad frequently sits at the kitchen table at any time during the day.
On this particular day, my dad sat at the table early in the morning. I used to figure skate when I was younger and on this day, I just finished a morning figure skating practice with lessons and coaching. My mom used to wake my sisters and me up early in the morning to head to these figure skating sessions. I remember hating waking up that early (I swear it was usually before 6am but it might have been just after 6am). I remember hating walking into the cold arena. Yet, by the time I completed the early morning sessions and by the time I was home, I didn’t mind the early AM workout and early start to the day.
After one morning figure skating session, I can remember coming home, excited and overjoyed to begin my day. As my mom turned down the driveway, I noticed the kitchen lights on. Then, as I walked up the stairs leading to patio door and as I noticed by dad sat at the kitchen table that morning, I reached to open the screen door covering the sliding patio window (aka the “patio door”). My dad looked up at me with his usual stoic facial expression, watching me reach for the patio door. Still feeling thrilled to be done the AM figure skating session, I waved happily at my dad, failing to notice that the glass part of the patio door remained locked and closed.
I smacked my face and entire body into the glass part of the patio door. Full blast. My dad shook his head, unimpressed. I laugh, take a step back and obviously now realize the glass part of the patio door remains unopened. I open the patio door, fully. Still, I am happy and excited to begin the day.
That’s first year law school: sometimes people notice that the glass part of the patio door is closed and they reach to open it. Others? Sometimes, like me, we forget that the patio door might be closed. Then, once we smack our faces and entire body (from sheer eagerness to begin the day) against the closed patio door/windowpanes, we take a moment, step back and realize that we need to slow down, open the door fully.
As for follow up from my previous post on failing an exam in law school, I passed and second year begins in September. I am still excited and eager as ever. Okay, maybe I am a little bit scared, but this time I will remember to take a step back, pause and open the door fully before I smack my face into any more windowpanes.