Wednesday, April 1, 2015

The Little Door.

I'd been wondering for days how every time my son was alone in his room, he was always talking. To someone. Very quietly. But when I went to see, there was nothing and no one else there.

Yesterday, however, when I was cleaning his room, I found a little door. It was so small, only a mouse could have fit through. I tried to open it, but it was locked. I showed it to my son and he started smiling very widely. Then he knelt down and knocked on the door. Slowly, it opened up and a very small little creature came out. It was like a little man, with a long beard and a pointy hat. I could barely see him, but my son, being so small, had no trouble at all. My son said something in his own way of talking and the little man seemed to understand him straight away. He answered him back in a language I still didn't understand and pointed at me. But it seemed like my son was convincing him that I was ok and the little man looked at me suspiciously but then started digging through his pocket. He took his hand out in a fist and then opened it and blew on it. And a cloud of glittering dust came out, and it landed on me and my son. Then I felt a funny twist in my body and the next thing I knew, both my son and I were so small the little man wasn't so little any more, the door was as big as we were and the rest of the room seemed humongous and the ceiling could have reached the sky. I took a hold of my son's hand. He smiled at me and the bearded man waved his hand to show us we should follow him and we stepped through the door together.

And on the other side of the door, a beautiful landscape opened up. Green as far as my eyes could see. All kinds of flowers, so many different shapes and colors. Trees I'd never seen before. Hills and delicious-looking berry bushes and the bluest sky. And when I looked closely, I saw doors all around that seemed to lead nowhere. They were just standing there. And everywhere I could see, there were little children. No older than three. Playing, jumping, laughing, running. My son pulled my hand and we walked closer to the little children. He pointed at a big flower they were jumping on like a trampoline. I let go of his hand and he ran towards it laughing loudly. The man stayed behind us, close to the door. And I took a look at the other doors and, sure enough, a similar looking bearded man with a pointy hat was standing in front of every single one.

"Where are we?" I asked the man that had helped us but he said nothing. Just looked at me carefully and then turned to my son again, who was jumping higher than anyone. Maybe each of these little children had their own little elf looking after them, I wondered. Was there a little door like this in every child's room? How did it get there? Did it just appear when the child was born?

I went closer to hear what the children were talking about. But I couldn't understand a word. It all sounded like the same little language my son was always talking to me and what the elf man had also spoken back to him.

Could it be that this place was there only for those children who hadn't learned to talk yet and couldn't tell anyone about it? It would be the best kept secret.

I watched my son play for a long time. He climbed on trees, used the big leaves as slides, played tag with the other children and they all seemed to understand each other perfectly. It was like a secret club where no grown-ups could enter.

Finally he came back to me and jumped in my arms and yawned. He seemed ready to go home. He mumbled something to the bearded man and he nodded and opened the door for us and even though it seemed like there was nothing behind it, I could see my son's room through it. We stepped in and the man put his hand in his other pocket and blew out glittering dust again and I saw how we grew again until the room looked normal and the man and the door were only inches tall. He waved at us and my son waved back. Then he went back and closed the door.

My son giggled and gave me a hug and I looked at him. Puzzled and amazed.

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