The Key and the String

Addie and I are staying the month in a small and very lovely war-era Dutch row house, which our host generously gives us freedom to roam. There are are so many interesting features in a house like this: for one, its narrow, so the rooms are arranged vertically. The front door is on the floor with the kitchen and the toilet, the living room is a flight up from that (with access to the patio), another room and the shower are a flight up from that, and the two bedrooms are at the top of the last flight of stairs. Of course, we keep our windows open up there during the warmth of the day, so the air is always alive with birdsong and the sound of children playing in the street and in the gardens. But modest size, functional design, and pastoral setting aside, I found my favorite part of this house today: the string that holds the key to open the door to the back patio. Today the loop of string gave out, and I was considering repair and replacement options when I looked and saw it was ringed with little knots. This was not the first time this had happened. So what did I do? I tied the loop back together, making my own, new knot in the loop, returning both the key and the string to service with minimal impact. Now both the string and the key are a little more important to me because I discovered, then added to, their quiet little history. This is literally all it takes to make my day these days. How great is that?