Golden Anvil

In my house, there is a room I pass each day. The door is usually shut. I glance at the door as I walk by, back and forth, completing my daily tasks. While I know its purpose, I don’t often stop to reflect on why it is there, or why it is shut off from the rest of my house; such a stark contrast from the open cheery rooms warmed by the sun on cool winter days.

But sometimes, sometimes I am brave. I open that door. I enter carefully, almost reverently, into a totally different world. I creep over to the blinds and open them, watching the sunlight fill this pastel green room with warmth. I am filled with hope.