Growing up, I watched my dad check the door locks every night–and I picked up the habit from him. I’m probably worse than him, actually. I have my theories about why we each acquired this compulsion, which I won’t get into here. And though I don’t know where the clinically compulsive line is, I’m probably too close to it.
Besides, it sucks as a nightly ritual. This morning it occurred to me that this whole thing needs a reframing. Beginning tonight when I check the doors, I’m going to move away from that mild anxiety toward a nightly blessing. A far better way to end the day.
Bless this house,
Bless these doors,
Blessed are those
who walk these floors.