Previous goodbyes are here, here, and here.
I made a pitch to bring the front door with us, but that would’ve meant replacing it before we listed the house, and frankly, we had other things to do.
When we bought the house, it had a plain brown interior door serving as a front door. It was the opposite of curb appeal. Also, the house was built in the ’70s, when the homebuilding motto seemed to be Whatever You Do, Don’t Let In Any Light. So as soon as we could, we replaced the front door with one made mostly of glass, to let in light anyway. The new door is red (barn red), and the glass swirls to form a cross, if you look closely.
If I want this particular door, I can buy another one just like it (this one came from Lowe’)s. Or I could paint the beige front door on the new house a barn red. The new door is half glass and also has a cross, a less swirly one. The new home was built in a different decade, when light was deemed permissible, so glass is less urgent.
Glass not only lets in light but implies a degree of transparency. When I toured Belfast, Northern Ireland, in 2012, our guide pointed out that the new buildings built after the bombings of The Troubles were made of glass, “to show we have nothing to hide,” he said.
More natural light also means less artificial light. Painting the interiors of this house in white and light neutrals, opening the blinds every morning, and even cleaning the windows brings in light the original builder never intended. Sure, light does show flaws. But after the troubles, there is nothing to hide.
Sandra Heska King says
“After the troubles, there is nothing to hide.”
Let your light shine, sis! We are all rearranging and replanting it seems lately. And we need to figure out what to do with our front door. It, too, is solid…