It was such a simple thing to me today; he held the door and let me pass first.
I’m 59 years old at this point and so please grant me grace, all ye of the modern thought. I so respect the idea of equality and all that, and I have no problem admitting I’m outdated. It’s simply a truth that I remember and miss that world of ladies and gentlemen. And it felt so—well nice—that he would hold the door for me.
He held the door for me, and I looked into real eyes.
He held the door for me, and I felt valued as a person. I existed.
He held the door for me, and I was reminded that I’m actually not alone in handling the heavy burdens this scary world lays on my shoulders. My community is here to do life with me—and I may not know his name, but I know he’d hold a door for me.
- Rebecca Coursen