THE KNOCK ON MY DOOR

Water was boiling in a small pot on my stove. I rip open the Mac and cheese box and was about to pour in the plastic like pasta. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK, echoes through my apartment. It is Halloween night and never in my existence at any apartment that I lived in has there ever been a knock on my door on Halloween. Never in my years living in Tampa or Los Angeles has any child come to my door looking for a treat, so why now?

I quickly freeze holding the box of Mac over the boiling pot. Ill prepared, I had not purchased any candy on the slight chance that I would be away from my apartment this night. Like and air force stealth bomber I inch up to my door and look through the peephole. Sure enough, tiny children all dressed in the Halloween costumes of monsters and princesses await my dungeon door to open preparing to dive into my bowl of treats and scramble off to the next giver of sweets. Like the Terminator robot I scan my apartment actually thinking that I may have something for them. My brain goes into overdrive thinking what I may give them. I remembered some people handed out pennies and I’m sure there’s been an influx because of the living wage has increased dramatically since my childhood ghoulish days, I perhaps could give them quarters. A quarter is almost the equivalent of any of those candied treats, right? Then I thought, no! I hated when I received that penny instead of a peanut butter cup or snickers. A penny? Man, come on?! If only my Mac and cheese was done I quickly thought then laughed off just as fast.

Time was running out. What are the kids thinking? Are the going to pull one of those mythical tricks on me? You know that urban legend where kids in their costumes gang up on their closed-door neighbors and pull that disgusting trick like egg my door or car, T.P. my apartment or set a bag of poor on fire in front of my door waiting for me to step on the stinky blaze and find my foot covered in feces. Or would they just drop their heads in disappointment, perhaps a single tear drop will fall from their eye after spending all month deciding on their costume and all day of anticipation for this one moment to show off their frightful look and receive candy, glorious candy!

I look back through the peephole and there was nothing. The children moved on. They didn’t have time for my indecision my searching they just moved on to the next-door waiting to say those three magic words that will grant them their chocolate and tart dreams.

Now after writing that memoir I have to admit that is a great metaphor to my life. My constant indecisions have held me back. My lack of planning, my whistles life that I lead where I don’t even stop to get one simple bag of candy. I look at it as the children were my goals knocking at my door and there I am not prepared to open my door to them. You know how they say you have to look at doors and sometimes they are locked and some open up to you. Maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe it’s the goals that knock on your door and you just have to be ready to open your own door. I’ll tell you this though; I will never not have a bag of candy waiting for the children on Halloween ever again. And that my dear readers is the first step.

Florida Travels:

I have been traveling to the east coast of Florida all week doing presentations. I wake up at 5am and drive an hour do six presentations and drive home. Some have been good some bad but I do have to admit it is quite the same if I was on the road. Granted I was able to see my friends and catch up. It’s sometimes hard though. When you’re on the road month’s fly by. When you come home life has kept on going and you realize you’ve missed so much. I have friends that have announced they are expecting babies. I have missed road trips and events. I tell them about my travels and it’s like an inside joke where you had to be there. Yet no matter what it’s nice to see familiar faces wherever I go and know you have someone to talk to that knows you face to face. Only a hand full of precious moments that happened on my trips. By the way, I have made nothing but home cooked meals since I’ve been back. My friend Emo and I enjoyed a pot roast that I had cooked all day in my crock-pot. Nothing beats a good home cooked meal after weeks of micky D’s and Applebee’s. Even though my apartment may be just as big as most of the hotels I stay in it is nice to be in my own bed.

Now tomorrow I’ll be heading to the city I hold dear to my heart for one of the most exciting moments of my dear friend’s life…