Just beyond the pink door
She was the kind of girl who had it all; poise, confidence, beauty and charm doesn’t require a man. Her high heels and polished suits pounded the pavement by day while her bare feet and free spirit danced in the garden by night.
Her gypsy soul was responsible for creating a special place unseen by others. It was private yet free and uninhibited. It was the only place that she had ever, really, felt like herself. It was the kind of place where a girl could go to be completely alone, which was just the way she liked it. She had created a dual life- a business woman who earned a good living in the city by daylight and then disappeared into the country without a trace after dark. In the darkened sky, just before the moonlight, this woman became a girl. A young spirit with no identity, no responsibilities- just freedom and bliss.
Her professional and personal life were completely separate . It seemed as though she lived two completely different lives, each with it’s own unique personality. This switch in persona happened the moment she pulled off those heels. The business hair came down, her make-up was off and all clothes were free flowing or not at all. She lived in the garden and talked to the plants which bore the most succulent fruits. Each bite became sweeter than the last and every night the juice slid down her chin and onto the dirt floor. She bathed in a waterfall that feed a restful pond on the edge of a garden, filled with candle light and music. She danced without thought, she slept deeply, and she ate whatever she wanted. There were no rules in this garden, just colorful birds and fragrant flowers. This woman never seemed to age as her dual life went on for years without any reason for change. Her life was beautiful and perfect outside the pink door.
It was a Wednesday and it felt like a day no different from any other. After she dressed in a business suit, and red heeled pumps, her hair went up into the perfect twirl and off she went. The city was hot and noisy but her day was uneventful, yes, very uneventful, until she reached the pink door. This weathered old door with chippy paint and a slightly rusted metal handle would change everything. It would send her world into a tail-spin and make her question every inch of her life. It would threaten the gypsy girl who danced away the night and make this confident woman question her judgement. Opening that door seemed like a ridiculously stupid thing to do but something was calling her to it. This force unseen tugged at every fiber of her being and a voice from the other side seemed to utter her name in a whisper. Although curious by nature, she was always cautious and remained very private, but the voice kept calling and calling. She cupped her hands over her ears and closed her eyes but the voice never stopped and the temptation grew stronger. Will her hands be forced to touch the rusty patina and open that door?
Will she open the pink door? Libby said she would. I would. Would you? That’s all we have time for today. Come back later, or you’ll miss the rest of my story. Have a great weekend my friends.
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