100 Words on old doors

I drive past the house often. A 1950s brick house in a nondescript subdivision in south Nashville that sits catty-cornered on a corner lot. The one with the outline of a door that once upon a time, some owner decided to brick in. The doorway is gone, but the outline is still there.

Every time I pass, I wonder. Did he walk out that door to mow the yard? Was that the way she came in after a long day at work? Who were the people who lived here, who walked in and out that door every day? Are they remembered or forgotten?

Their memories and the bright details of their stories may have faded into the background, but the outline still remains. They were here. And their lives mattered.

130 words