It's a Little Piece of Metal

They lay peacefully on three scraps of white paper, simply waiting to be picked up and used. Each of them sat above the word that labeled their use. Black ink on white paper. Block letters. And even as Beloved crinkled each piece of paper up I wanted to reach out save them, to tuck them away in my diary for a future generation to read.

But that would be silly.

But, I'm a silly girl.

Keys. 

They are simply keys.

Two open the front door to the little green house on the corner.

One unlocks the back door.

Another two are for the mailbox that sits across the street.

They are just little things.

Small pieces of metal that you carry in pocket or in your purse. Sometimes you lose them. Often times you leave them in the same place at the end of each day. 

You probably have more than five on you right now. Keys for houses. Keys for cars. Keys for locks and mailboxes and lockers. Keys for work. Keys for fun. 

And we never give them a second thought until we can't find them.

But yesterday was different. I watched my Beloved open the door to our new home for the first time. I saw him insert the key into the lock and gently turn it. The door was pushed open and we stepped up into our new life.

Yeah, I know it's a life of mortgage payments and fixing things that need fixing. I know these keys bring more responsibility and debt. The keys bring gutters that will need cleaning and grass that needs mowing. There will be headaches when this or that breaks down.

But still...

These small, shiny pieces of metal open the door to the home I've dreamed of, lusted after, longed for. 

It's silly. I know.

It's just a house.

A storm could destroy it.

The loss of a job could take it away from us.

Anything could happen.

It's just wood and cement and paint and really awful orange shag carpeting.

But it's ours (as long as we make the payments).

And I cried yesterday as I walked through it for the first time as it's owner. Which is silly, but I've already told you I'm a silly girl. We got down on our knees, right there in that empty living room, and thanked God. And I cried some more.

Poor Beloved and his sappy wife.

We secured the doors and drove away. But we'll return this morning to begin the process of making this house our home.

And we'll use those shiny keys to open the front door every day.

Funny how keys can brighten an entire day. 

Or week. 

Or life.