The Door

In 1979, I was arriving in Bass Harbor, Maine. My father had recently purchased a beautiful two-story New England style home, and I was going to stay there for a while. Beyond our backyard, a forest rolled on for thirty miles or more. It was a wild unoccupied place, unexplored for as far as the eye could see. The same year, I finished reading the Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis. When I looked out across the forest, I was seeing the untamed places of Narnia. The nearby ocean brought forth a world of dreams. I was given much freedom to explore and would disappear for large portions of the day, looking for a door to other realms. I believed in unicorns, castles, centaurs, and talking animals. My dog, Benji, was a constant companion. I trespassed upon salt water marshes, fresh water ponds, deer, and even a bear; however, these were not the things I searched for. I believed a portal would take me away to a better place. I collected shells and examined marine life in tide pools, and searched the horizon for a boat that could take me to a new life. I thought I might even see a mighty lion waiting in the early morning fog, tendrils of dew clinging to his mane.

As I grew older, I realized the only door I would find was through my imagination. My love of horses never lost its magic. I suppose it was the closest to a unicorn I would ever be. Deep inside, I was crushed. The clutches of our physical world had taken hold of me, and I struggled and fought against it. I clung to my animals and horses even more. Stories poured out of my head, and I quickly jotted them down. Years later, these would be come the novels I hoped to publish. But still, in my dreams; the door remains and part of me is just as determined to find it.