I finally have my new entrance. Now, I get to walk into my front door when I return home. Guests get to walk in my front door when they visit. What a spectacular difference between navigating through a garage stuffed with the clutter and discards of livingÂ and walking through the bright, beautiful glass fronted doors.
I clearly remember my mother telling the story that her PawPaw Fountain was made to enter his home only through the backdoor. His wife felt he was dirty from his job and didn’t want him tracking filth through the “good part” of the house. When my mom spoke of this, it always made me think that my Big Granny thought her husband was beneath most people, that he was not good enough to enter his own home like a king. Guests, even strangers, had more rights than he did. Certain parts of the “front of the house” were off limits to him.
There have been many times I have cringed at the people who have entered our home through my garage or laundry room. I was embarassed for years.
Backdoors are for people with whom you are really familiar and intimate. They are for people who come to borrow eggs or run over to get you to drive them to the emergency room. They are not for people coming for a fancy, sit down dinner.
I have greatly anticipated the day when I had the lovely, welcoming front entry that I now have. I planted this beginning garden. It will be grand. I can park out front. I can walk up to the doors. I can sit and open my mail. I am well pleased.