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,

and I,

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;

exiting eventually,

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.

Revolving doors,

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.