“Open the door,” they instructed her. “It’s time.”
“Yes,” she thought to herself, and nodded although she was afraid. This was perhaps the most important decision of her life. She asked them which door to open, but they insisted she decide. The doors all looked identical from the outside, each one significantly taller than her, with the handles just out of reach. She knew instinctively that every door opened to reveal a unique path, each one leading to a different destination. Some paths were more rocky than others, some were smooth like freshly paved roads. Some of them spiraled and winded around corners, like snakes around a tree branch.
She could see the doubt on her face staring back at her, reflected in the pristine brass polish that coated the door handles, as she looked skeptically at the myriad of doors. Her facial expression darkened as clouds of confusion drifted into her mind. If only there were a window in the doorframe, she muttered to herself. Even a tiny peephole would have sufficed. She asked one of the doormen, who guarded the doors, to tell her about what his door held within. He sighed and shook his head vigorously. “Enough with the inane questions! Aren’t you satisfied with even having a choice to make? Other people can only dream of entering the hallway of doors. If you aren’t content with simply being here, then you must be very hard to please.” A shiver ran down her spine. “I know I’m lucky,” she whispered.
As she sauntered slowly along the hallway, becoming more and more reluctant with each step she took, she realized something about the doors that she hadn’t noticed before. Every door had an infinitesimal nameplate, describing in fine print the path behind it. The nameplates also varied in color; some were gold, some were silver, and some were so covered in soot that she was unable to identify what precious metal they were made of.
A different doorman, an old man, stepped from his post and walked along the hallway towards her. Her impulse to run in the other direction was quelled by his empathetic expression and mysterious twinkling eyes. When the old man had finally reached her, she realized that he was smiling. She felt a wave of comforting warmth drifting towards her as he approached. “The nameplates indicate the value of each path,” he divulged, slowly, and with conspicuous effort. “Value, how is that measured? In success, status or in money? Or the more elusive prize, happiness and personal fulfillment?” The old man stifled a chuckle. “The doors don’t say.” When she didn’t respond, he went on: “Everyone that comes here needs to make a choice. That’s how they leave.” She nodded stiffly—she already knew that. She just didn’t know how she was going to do it.
The hallway of doors was an infinite aisle of possibilities. By selecting a door, she would choose to walk the path behind it. Regardless of the fact that she barely knew what each path entailed, she was forced to make a choice. Otherwise, she would languish in that hallway of doors, uncertain of her future for the foreseeable future. She was in an impossible position. Judging by each door’s description, she knew that some paths were easier to traverse than others; however, these paths often seemed less exciting. Conversely, the paths that appeared to be especially intriguing were often the ones who’s descriptions displayed warning signs.
Well aware that her time was running out, she turned to the old man for advice. “Be audacious but discerning alike,” he whispered. “That’s all you’ll hear from me.” The girl thanked him for his input, but felt more confused than ever. She wanted to be audacious, and base her decision on what her heart desired. She wanted to be discerning, and choose an option her mind thought was secure. But she felt that she could never make a decision if her heart and mind were contradicting each other.
The debate continued for hours. Her eyelids became heavy and she could not resist their shutting. Sweet sleep eventually liberated her from the uncertainty that would have otherwise swallowed her whole. And as she slept, she entered a kingdom of dreams where her heart dominated the throne.
Abruptly, a door across the hallway flew open, and a magnetic force engulfed her body and dragged her inside. The door slammed shut behind her. Her heart had chosen.
Ana-Mara Leppink ’27 (aleppink@college.harvard.edu) writes Arts for the Independent.