Guarded

I was thinking yesterday about openness.

A line from Mother's diary yesterday said "we slept with the windows and doors open".

While our windows always open except in severe cold or heat, our doors are always locked. Always. Day and night.

In our childhood home we didn't even have keys to doors - that I know of. I guess the back door had a push lock, but the house was simply never locked - even when we went away on long trips. And we never gave it a thought. I don't ever remember being scared of burglars or invasions of any kind.

Now look at us.

In a near DC suburb, a beloved music teacher was shot point blank when she answered her door. Still no reason.

I never answer the door unless I rcognize who is standing on the other side

As for answering the phone, we haven't for years. Our land-line whose very existence is nearing an end, has an answering machine whose volume is turned up and we screen all calls. Cell phones offer the same preview. In my childhood days we raced to answer the phone. It demanded and commanded. Now it is all but ignored.

It seems impossible that in my one seemingly short lifetime, our world has gotten so buttoned up, stitched shut, turned and hemmed for good measure.

We are wary of life.