Posted in Africa, Nature, Photography, Travel


photograph by Cheryl Merrill
photograph by Cheryl Merrill


A door closes behind me.  Another one opens before me.  My life: doors and side-doors, opening, closing, rooms I do not recognize, rooms that are familiar.  Outdoors, indoors.  Locked doors.  Doors ajar.  Double doors.  Doors that squeak.  Doors unhinged.  Silent doors.

Latch, unlatch.  Doors easy to open, doors impossible to shut.  Solid doors, hollow doors.  Doors that blow open, doors that slam shut.

Big doors.  Small doors.  Ornate doors, plain ones.  Doors that open in.  Doors that open out.

Yours is the door upon which I now knock.  This day east of you, I would carry west, and lay upon your doorstep: a world without windows, without doors.



Cheryl Merrill’s essays have been published in Fourth Genre, Pilgrimage, Brevity, Seems, South Loop Review, Ghoti, Alaska Quarterly Review, Adventum and Isotope. “Singing Like Yma Sumac” was selected for the Best of Brevity 2005 and Creative Nonfiction #27. It was also included in the anthology Short Takes: Model Essays for Composition, 10th Edition. Another essay, “Trunk,” was chosen for Special Mention in Pushcart 2008. She is currently working on a book about elephants: Larger than Life: Living in the Shadows of Elephants.

4 thoughts on “Doors

  1. Hehe – yes, of course, west of here and east of there. Got a little confused (what’s new?), having recently moved from the west side to the east side as in ♫ moving on up ♫. A date on the International Date Line is perfecto with me, as long as we know where to draw the line! Hugs

  2. This is a magical piece of writing, Cheryl ! Maybe someday, east of here and west of there, we will meet. With love

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