This is the ground floor in Midland, TX. When visiting my hometown a couple of weeks ago for my baby brother’s wedding I snapped this shot of one of my favorite spots in town. What do you see when you look at it? A faded charcoal door that appears to be glazed in a light coat of chalk dust that opens to the ground floor of an old aged and condemned building? But as I capture this shot I can’t see past the deep bluish-gray door it once was. I picture high school students of a all schools of all levels of popularity and cliques coming and going. I can see through the window to the right, as I have to peek through the “o” of the ground floor painted boldly on the glass, some local kid who decided to try his hand at public performance with a guitar in his hand. The entire corner glowing from the icicle lights that once lined the glass, it’s warm and alluring.
I remember exiting this door on any given evening with my friends and heading to the park across the street. There were fountains, waterfalls, stone pathways and a large patch of vibrantly green grass between it and the courthouse. As we exited the door we had our granita’s in hand, where can I find this again? When we exited these doors we crossed that asphalt and twenty minutes later would find ourselves laid out on the blanket staring into the warm light that emitted from that door, our bodies and clothes soaking from our late night swim in the fountain, laying in one of the very few oasis in west Texas.
It’s been eleven years since I lived in this town…since I was that teenager walking through this door. I look at this door and find a craving for this decade long aftertaste that lingers on the tip of my tongue. I look at this door today and I see faded young souls coming and going like apparitions through this door. I see Jenny on the curb smoking a cigarette with her boyfriend Joey at her side. I see my dear friend Bryan across the way, his head bobbing in the fountain. I see Wendi and Melanie singing and performing along the grass. I see Christie, Josh, Teri, and I sitting just inside the window visiting over coffee about our next great theatre venture. I look at this door and see it’s dusty front, and through it I see it’s abandoned walls, covered in beautiful captivating murals. I look at this door and think this is my youth still (barely) standing to reminisce with me today.
For more doors, stop by Norm’s place.