Every day I walk past the old shop.
On concrete worn smooth by countless passersby going to and from their day just like me.
I can feel it as I draw closer and unconsciously slow my pace hoping to finally see someone in there milling about, or maybe a customer opening the door so I can
get a quick glimpse.
But that day is yet to come.
The facade being the only voice offered.
The homespun window dressings speak so softly to the city, almost imperceptibly swaying in the dust mote filled air.
A simple, childlike, handwritten cloth banner challenging all those who pass by to simply “Believe”.
The loopy lettering written in what I’m pretty sure started out as purple glittery paint marker and the dried out, curled aluminum foil cross reflect the amiable early morning sunlight.
The soft glow highlights the message making it stand out against the dreary interior.
Whether or not it was intended, I suppose that makes a visual metaphor for the light of faith standing out over the darkness of the world and its many ills.
I really want to believe.
Like Fox Mulder combined with pointy Genesis tin foil hats believe.
In something.
Could that something be inside there?
Is the universe talking to me and I need to listen?
The old window glass and cloudy wrinkly shower curtain, the stars cut out of glitter paper with scissors, then hung by ribbons now faded to almost white, and the ancient screen door with a painted over doorbell that I know hasn’t worked in many years.
All of this gets to me.
I’m a sucker for old screen doors too.
What lies beyond the visible and the kitschy?
Why does this brittle, dusty, moth ball fragrant display intrigue me and not repel me?
They’re paying the rent, so they must be doing something right,…right?
I’m convinced that there is someone in there that knows something that I don’t.
The answer to the mystery that we all hope to figure out before we have to find out for real.
I can feel it.
I’m really going to try that doorbell...tomorrow.
