You are a different type of threshold crossing.
When I was younger shopping with my mom
at the Hudson’s Bay Company
you were there, welcoming me.
I could hardly wait to enter your circular chamber
and dance merrily about,
my mom beckoning me to exit;
for she was on a mission, a quest,
errands to do, a crossing off of the list,
was simply playing in the revolving door of fun.
Round and round I’d go
smiling at my mom as she waited on the other side,
pleading with me to just come along;
giggling like mad,
knowing I was in a wee spot of trouble.
With a holding tight of my hand
my mom would lead me on
neither chiding nor chastising me,
but simply smiling, as we made our way into the store.
you are a different type of threshold space.
I can choose to linger as long as I like,
going round and round, faster, slower,
eventually I must exit.
But which way?
For how long?
Shall I go back out and enter again?
What if there’s more than one way to cross?
I long to enjoy the magic of the circling,
the creative space of movement
and then, the opening as I exit my body,
inviting me to play,
to embrace my dormant childlike self and have fun.