We had been decorating all day. The hall was ready and the reception about to begin. The acid washed concrete floors of the industrial loft-like banquet hall had gotten the better of my feet and I was ready to crash for a moment before guests arrived. Then I saw it. The little space next to the gift table that guests would pass on their way into the hall felt empty. I quickly grabbed an old chair we had brought for staging fillers. A stack of books and a candle are always go-to’s. Tuck in a few fresh flowers. Done and done. It wasn’t until the event started that I realized the book’s title was “The Best Man.” True story.
What is so intriguing about these old doors on a warehouse in our downtown? I had to stop and photograph them for some reason. The color. The distressing. The rust. It’s all so natural. They make a statement. They tell a story. It makes me want to write one. I think I will.