A Knock at The Door

Paul McCartney and Wings did a song in 1976 called " Let 'Em in ". It is a catchy tune, that on this rainy morning came waltzing into my mind. I have noticed that on solitary moments an anxiety can creep in, a sort of unnerving, repressed concern that maybe someone will show up at the door, knocking and I will both want to answer and not answer. I think it comes on days I am alone and am torn between enjoying the solitude and wanting company, not being sure which would please me more. But the ambivalent feeling about this causes a certain monologue in my head, that goes over everything in the house, making an inventory to make sure the house is presentable, just in case a friend or neighbour would show up anyway. That rarely, if ever happens these days. Being a writer is a solitary occupation and I think people just assume I don't want to be bothered. This preoccupation of course goes much deeper than a superficial concern with a friendly visit. It goes back to all the family loss and the isolation that inescapably came with it, the thunder with the lightening. It was like a door closing with double locks and then you realize too late someone also took the keys. I am just not sure who took them. It is an unsettling feeling, one that I have not been able to shake completely. Now that I have accepted this little ghostly appearance on quiet days, I can smile about it when I feel centered and relaxed. I understand it is a longing to be connected, to be part of a community, a clan, like I used to be, it seems a lifetime ago. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me, that make me feel I imagined my life before I lost my family, perhaps I just made all that stuff up about having grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, sisters, and a brother. Maybe all that never was as real as this anxious feeling that the doorbell will ring and someone will say, "Hey, I was just in the area, how are you? "  There is a kind of rejection at the idea that someone might actually show up, because it would imply that the trauma of the loss of family would have to be dealt with time and again, like a wound you don't  tear the bandage off, and that way stays raw much too long. By imagining someone at the door on those uncertain hours, it is a way I think the mind pretends to deal with the uncomfortable feeling of alienation, that I think this brings about. A knock at the door, of mostly people that live too far away, have passed away, or have no idea who I really am. So the idea of a knock at the door, is full of both potential joy, annoyance, and concern. I am glad this uneasy, anxious feeling only comes to me a couple of times a year now, less and less, to my relief. I look forward to the day I realize that someone is knocking at the door, and my heart does not skip a beat. I just open the door, without thinking about what it means emotionally. It could happen. Wounds heal, like time. So I have been told.