Keys

House keys. Most people don’t give them second thought about the key to their front door - except when it goes missing. They loan it out to people who watch their pets while they are away, bring the mail inside, water the houseplants - that kind of thing. Typically it’s given back when the owner returns and loaned out again, to a different person perhaps, the next time it’s needed. There’s nothing odd about it - it’s been done since the invention of door locks.

I don’t do it. For me, my house is my sanctuary away from the outside. Behind my locked front door is my world; untouched by others who want to “change",” or “correct,” or just be all judgy about my refuge. The only place on the planet I can be myself; where I don’t have to worry about if I’m frowning too much, or being too quiet, or being too loud, or being too anything, really. My house is the only place I have that I can be . To me, someone seeing the inside of my house is as if they are taking a glimpse into my soul; the very essence of who I am. The people who are given a key to my house isn’t just to water the plants and it’s taken back. The key to my house, to my sanctuary, is only given to those I want in my life and to know the REAL me - not the one of a thousand masks I wear every day. I don’t need to use all of the fingers on my hand to count how many people fall into the category of “Key Bearer.” It sounds pretentious, but there it is - I’m a weirdo.

Because of the way I view the giving of house keys, when I am told to keep a house key “just in case,” I don’t take it to mean that I have it for an emergency. I take it as the giver wants me in their life, to see and know their own imperfections; to know the real them and not the mask they wear when they interact with me. I do not take receiving another’s house key lightly. I feel it is a humbling privilege to be allowed access into another’s life, especially when the other isn’t so crazy about people (kinda like me), and they feel comfortable enough - no, they trust me enough to want me to know them and not betray them. Given the fact that trusting people is hard for me, I feel that it must have been hard for them as well. As I said, I do not take the privilege lightly.

Which is why I was devastated when he demanded I give him his house key back. Oh, I didn’t let the devastation show on my face at the time. I was far too angry with him when I pulled it off of my key ring and threw it across the room - but I was heartbroken. He didn’t want me in his life anymore; he didn’t trust me not to betray him (though I have no clue as to why). It’s also why I changed the locks to my house. I never got my key back from him, and if someone doesn’t want me in their life, there’s no reason for them to be in mine.

I will say, it’ll be an extremely long time before I give my house key to someone who isn’t living in my house and paying rent. Once bitten, twice shy.

That seems to be the recurring theme of my life…