The Man Who Held the Door

A Story by Jill Cobb

How one small gesture changed my perspective on love.

One night, my friend Michelle and I decided to go out for dinner. We picked a local place we had yet to try, nothing fancy. On the way there, we vented about our ex husbands as most newly divorced women do, then we’d burst into fits of laughter remembering all the stupid things they said or did.

As hard as we laughed about them, we also laughed off the idea of ever finding real love. We were in a silly mood as we approached the entrance of the restaurant. Just when we reached to open the door, an elderly gentleman was exiting at the same time.

“Oh! Sorry about that,” Michelle and I stepped back, startled as the door was opening on us. Of course, we laughed about it and give him the go ahead to come on out. But hesitated, being a gentleman who’d grown up in the good ‘ol days when chivalry was still alive, he declines, “ladies first.”

“It’s okay, after you,” he could tell Michelle meant it by the sincere way she spoke and kindly nodded a very humble thank you. Not only did we let him go first, we would also have to wait as he held the door for his lovely companion.

She wasn’t directly behind him for some reason. And as she walked towards the door, I realized why. It took a tremendous amount of effort for her to put one foot in front of the other as if her feet had turned to concrete blocks too heavy to lift, she was moving at a snail’s pace aided with her three pronged cane.

The man who held the door, looked at us apologetically as he knew we were all waiting on her and it would take a minute or two. Had we known prior, we probably wouldn’t have made such a big deal about letting him go first. Oh well, next time.

We didn’t mind the wait, we had time. What we didn’t have was the ability to keep the “awes” from coming out of our mouths when we saw her. Such a pitiful sight, there was nothing lovely about her at all.

No doubt in my mind, this poor woman had been struck by lightning as every hair on her head stood straight up. Her wrinkled blouse was covered in half of her meal and she’d made no attempt to wipe it off. Rather looked like she had tried to bathe in it.

Most of us would be embarrassed to be seen with this woman, even if she was our beloved grandma or favorite aunt. Lowering my eyes away from her, I glanced back at the man who held the door for her and that’s when it struck me. The look of love that shown in his eyes pierced through me, he saw her just the same as he did on their wedding day, walking towards him in a flawless white dress.

The magic in this man’s eyes played a trick on mine, my vision was suddenly perfect. Yes, she may be disheveled and slow, but she’s the luckiest lady in the world to be loved so purely. Their imaginary perfect life, flashed through my head as my mind made up memories of the two of them together.

Something I longed for and had wanted to share with the love of my life, but he wasn’t the kind of gentleman who held the door for me or would’ve waited for me and had already moved on to someone else anyway.

Poof! More magic, my sadness was quickly replaced with hope, the man who held the door for her had opened the one I’d closed. Actually, I slammed it and locked it, and here was the key, dangling right before my watering eyes. Unconditional love exists.

One day, there would be a man who held the door, for me.

© 2016 Jill Cobb

Author's Note

This happened a few years ago and it's one of my favorites.

My Review

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Reviews

barleygirl

These situations are always the ones that stick in our minds & beg for us to write them up someday. You've done a good job of telling us about the situation & how it affected you. I especially loved the play on words for "holding open a door" & comparing that to the door closed within one's heart. May all of us who feel "alone" (or empty) be able to keep the door open for possibilities. By the way, when you described feet that were concrete blocks too heavy to lift -- that's exactly how I described how my own near-paralysis felt in my legs for a few years recently. Such comparisons make a description sing.