When I think about my father I think about how safe he made me feel. And I think about locks, so many locks…
My father was the head of the main security company in town and a big safety buff. It was his passion not just a job, to the point where he had many public talks about safety and security – some of those in my school to my embarrassment.
Growing up I remember a lot of instructions. The front door had four locks, each with a different key of course. We lived in small house with no backdoor, so if I wanted to play in our small garden, I had to leave through the front door – after unlocking and locking all the four locks of course.
It wasn’t just the front door though, all the doors in our house had several locks, so bolts and padlocks next to the original lock. Some were not always locked with the room key like my bedroom (my choice), the bathroom and the kitchen. The living and dining room were one big area with no doors. Others were triple locked, like the guest bedroom and the basement.
You’re probably wondering about my father’s bedroom now, imagining a complicated system of several locks that only he knew how to open. But you’re wrong. My father’s bedroom door was strangely never locked- never even closed in fact. When I was little and had to go to the bathroom (unbolt, unlock the padlock, enter, lock the padlock, bolt the door, pee, flush, unlock the padlock, unbolt, exit, lock the padlock, bolt the door) at night, I would pass his room and see his dark shape sleeping through the open door. When I turned eleven I was tired of the tedious routine whenever I had to pee at night, so I bought a plastic bottle with a big cap to pee in, only at night. I’m not proud to admit that though I wish I had thought of it sooner.