My father’s keys used to jingle with each step he took as he descended the stairs to the family room every night when he came home from work.
I would know where he was anywhere in the house if I just listened for the jangle.
When I was young I thought he had the keys to the world hanging off his belt, there were just so many! In my little girl mind, he was the keeper of all things secret and hidden behind locked doors and safes and I used to be afraid someone would kidnap him and make him share his keys and force him to open those doors. But no one ever did. Of course not. That was just an only daughter’s fear who had a very active imagination.
It’s been 15 years since he passed, and still, whenever I find a loose key with no possible recollection of what it opens, I put it aside. I just can’t bear to let it go. At least not for a while. I’d rather let whatever door or secret it opens stay closed for a little bit longer.
My father was a locksmith and I am proud to be his daughter.