“Even though I was angry, I did not slam the door. I closed it slowly and quietly because I did not want to discover what repercussions a slammed door might bring upon me.” – Sean Joyner

In a fit of frustration, Sean Joyner punched through his bedroom door, setting off a chain of events that would transform his perspective on life. What started as a quest for redemption turned into an eye-opening exploration of doors as more than mere barriers. Follow Sean’s captivating narrative as he navigates Home Depot, initially as a cashier with zero knowledge of construction, only to find himself in the doors and windows department.

Discover how measuring a door for replacement became a catalyst for personal growth, opening his eyes to the intricacies of architecture and transforming the way he perceives the world around him. This tale of doors is more than just a home improvement story—it’s a reflection on the unexpected lessons life presents and the redemptive power of growth.

Unveil the layers of meaning hidden behind the seemingly mundane act of replacing a door.

By Sean Joyner

Even though I was angry, I did not slam the door. I closed it slowly and quietly because I did not want to discover what repercussions a slammed door might bring upon me. My mother had just had the final word. She had exercised her authority as ultimate judge and arbiter of our household, which flared up in me a fire of frustration and fed-up-ness familiar to most adolescents. I can’t recall the exact content of the argument, only that it left us at odds, at opposite ends of what we each believed an 18-year-old high school senior should and shouldn’t be allowed to do. I left her, furious, huffing and puffing, and stomped up the stairs to my room, where I did not slam the door.

I squeezed the knob with all my might and pressed it motionlessly, as hard as I could, into the jamb. That wasn’t enough. I wanted to strike something, lash out, dislodge the pestering irritation that electrified my bones. Moping and morose, I threw myself onto my futon. From the mirror across the room my forlorn face looked back at me. You’re not a person who strikes things, it said. But, ruminating on the argument, I grew even angrier. I felt compelled to commit some act of retribution, to bring justice upon the physical world for the wrong that had been done to me.

I made a tight fist, like I was squeezing the juice out of an uncut lemon, stood up, and marched over to my door, meditating on all that irked me about my predicament. Yes, I was 18, but I was an adult, a grown man. I shouldn’t have to listen to my mother anymore. My heart knocked, encouraging me to raise that tight fist, drenched in that lemon juice. I squeezed harder, paused, then plunged my hand through the door…

Sean Joyner is a Los Angeles–based writer. He explores themes in architecture, culture, and everyday life.
***This article was originally posted on Aug 2nd, 2023 at https://www.archpaper.com/***