When you meet the Door Gods, be sure to let them know you are my friend. And they will treat you well.

When you meet the Door Gods, be sure to let them know you are my friend. And they will treat you well.

They stand guard on the threshold; they have stood there since the beginning of time, and for all we know they will remain at their posts long after we’ve traipsed in and out of several lifetimes.

Their role is to ask you questions each time you arrive on their doorstep, and your answers will help them decide which door they should let you through.

They usually get you to talk about your remaining dreams and desires, any regrets you may have and wish to express, any matters you’d like sorted before you step across to the other side. 

They sometimes engage in a classic good cop, bad cop routine, but only if they have reason to believe you are not being entirely honest with yourself and with them. So I suppose the best strategy is to come clean, lay yourself bare, because usually you find yourself on their doorstep when you have nothing more to lose.

Our turn came quite unexpectedly when we were out on a long drive by the seaside on a moonlit night; one instant we were on the road, the next we found ourselves on a path leading to the doors, as if transported by a wave of a magician’s wand. 

Several people queued up ahead of us, and each time we glanced back the queue appeared to get longer and longer. 

It was difficult to say how much time had passed before we arrived on the doorstep; it could have been an instant or an aeon, all depended on how we looked at it.

Even before the Door Gods could speak, little Jeremy asked them excitedly if this was the entrance to the midnight fete we had been on our way to. They smiled at him in response, and said Yes, if that is what you’d like. The door with the red-bearded guardian swung back and Jeremy hopped through.

When the boyfriend stepped up, they asked him if he wanted to go back to where he had come from. He thought for an instant, then (as I knew he would) replied in the negative, reasoning that one could never walk through life and time backwards. The door on the right swung back and he slipped through.

They asked me if I wanted to follow little Jeremy or the boyfriend. I said I wanted to follow my own path. I am not sure if that was the right answer but the Door Gods thought solemnly for a moment and both the doors swung back in unison.

I remember thinking at that instant that perhaps there were no right or wrong answers, only true ones. Because no one has ever walked through those doors and lived to tell the tale.