Holding the door

Years ago, I saw a short video. It couldn’t have been more than seven seconds long.

The camera is inside an elevator, looking out through the open doors. Someone is rushing to get in. The man inside raises his arm toward the door-open button. There’s a quick cut to his hand, finger outstretched. We know what he’s about to do.

Then he pulls his finger back and lets the doors close.

I don’t remember where I saw it or who made it. But that small gesture still bounces around in my mind.

It makes me think about the motions I’ve made toward people in my own life. The times I’ve thought about reaching out to a friend, meant to send a message, then been pulled into a meeting or gotten busy with something else.

Weeks later, I remember. I should reach out. Sometimes the cycle repeats.

I don’t know why those seven seconds have stayed with me for so long. But I still think about them.