ENGLISH AND SOCIAL STUDIES

The Door to Happiness

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                                         THE DOOR TO HAPPINESS

The floor no longer resounded with the sound of dancing. All was still. The fire in the grate was long dead. It was cold in the foyer. The clock still ticked away the hours as it had done against her will when she was flying and flouncing around in his arms, dancing with the abandon that only a girl in love could attain. Time never stood still then. It raced on relentlessly, robbing her of precious minutes to revel in his presence. The sound of her laughter long gone, as cold as the cinders in the fire. A cat walked obliviously across the room, haughtily taking no notice of the figure at the door. It was used to seeing the statuesque figure standing sentry against the frosted glass panels. Matilda, with one hand on the brass door knob, stood gazing out onto the front driveway. Her frosty breath made patterns on the glass which mirrored those of the frosted panels. She had stood there so long waiting for his return that the brass door handle was quite shiny and smooth from her vigil.

 

THE DOOR TO HAPPINESS

The floor no longer reverberated with the joy of their dancing. All was still. The fire in the grate was long dead. It was cold. The clock still ticked away the hours as it had done against her will when she was flying and flouncing around in his arms. Dancing with the gay abandon that only a girl in love could shine. Time never stood still then. It raced on relentlessly, robbing her of precious minutes to revel in his presence. The sound of her laughter long gone, as cold as the cinders in the fire. A cat walked obliviously across the room, haughtily taking no notice of the figure at the door. It was used to seeing the statuesque figure standing sentry against the frosted glass panels. Matilda, with one gnarled arthritic hand on the brass door knob, stood gazing out onto the front driveway. Waiting for him. Her frosty breath made patterns on the glass which mirrored those of the frosted panels. She had stood there so long waiting for his return that the brass door handle was rubbed quite shiny and smooth by her vigil.

 

 

 


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