When I got married, I started ringing the doorbellmy own frontdoor, the one Id been unlocking with a key from the very first day I moved in. There was a bell, but almost nobody ever used it. My mum kept a spare set of keys, and nobody else ever came by.
I would get home late at night. The neighbours were convinced I was a callgirl. Id arrive late, and different blokes would be waiting for me. They were, in fact, just the usual cab drivers.
By day I worked as a removaleditor, crawling home exhausted after a shift and flopping onto the bed facefirst. What clients? Oh, I meant guests. Id gotten used to nobody waiting for me at home. There was no one to open the door for meonly the cat, but she couldnt.
I didnt mind that at all, to be honest. I grew accustomed to the quiet, the lack of surprises, the peace. What more could a person want?
Then I married, and, among other pleasures, discovered a new one: ringing the doorbell. My husband worked from home, so when I returned I would pull the cord. Sometimes I did it several times a day.
*Dingdingding.*
*Dingdingding.*
*Dingdingding.*
Why are you interrupting him? my mother would protest. You have a spare key!
You dont get it, Id reply. Its that warm feeling when someone lets you in. I was lying. It wasnt just a pleasureit was happiness, knowing that someone was waiting behind the door.
*Dingdingding.*
Hearing footsteps, watching the key turn, feeling the latch click
*Dingdingding.*
Seeing the smile in his eyes, the grin on his face, understanding that hed missed meeven if Id only gone out for a loaf of bread.
*Dingdingding.*
If youve never lived on your own for a long spell, youll never grasp it. Sometimes my husband would open the door calmly, take my bag, help me off my coat, hug me and brush his stubble across my cheek. Other times hed be in the middle of a Skype call, waving emphatically, giving me a quick peck on the nose before racing back to work.
None of that changed anything. I was thrilled, like a man with chronic tonsillitis finally reaching the icecream van. The best part was that he never once scolded me, never threw a tantrum, and never asked, Did you forget your keys? as if the problem lay in the metal.
It wasnt about the key at all. It was about being welcomed. It will always be that way, and it will stay that way.
For the coming year I wish you just two things: good health and someone waiting for you at home. The rest youll have to dream up and achieve yourself. Im sure you will.
© Emily Clarke.
