Gnome Doors

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• May 26, 2021

“I was really high one night and ordered gnome doors. So I’m gonna put gnome doors in the park.”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

Katrina, Mike and I are in a dive bar chatting over drinks.

“Gnome doors.”

“Known door?”

“No, gnome doors. Like little doors. Fairy doors. They’re like the size of your hand.”

“Oh, gnome doors!”

My mumbling habit makes it difficult for even the people who know me best to understand.

“So you bought little doors?”

“Yes.”

“How high were you?”

“Very. Also sleep deprived. Katrina, you ready to nail some gnome doors into trees?”

“Naturally.”

A couple weeks later, the proper night would fall that my plan would fall into place. We’d roam the park in the light of the moon scouting out the perfect trees for the home of the gnome doors. I didn’t have the proper nails so I went to the hardware store. There’s a mom and pop hardware store in Astoria where there’s an oversized man (who I assume is an owner?) who hangs out at the end of the counter building something unusual. On this particular day, he was making a night light out of a glass coca-cola bottle. It just so happened I was wearing an “Enjoy Coke” t-shirt. This sprung him into conversation about the American iconic pop. All of which I knew. And not just because I recently watched “Cola Wars” on the history channel. In turn, I shared my knowledge. Riveting stuff.

I told him I needed nails to drill into a tree. He showed me short nails and I said, “no, I’m going to need something longer. I need to nail through wood into wood.”

“What exactly are you putting up.”

There was a moment of hesitation until I said, “I bought these little gnome doors.”

“What?”

“Gnome doors. Like the size of your hand. To put on trees to make it look like a little gnome or fairy lives there.”

“You’re going to put a bunch of gnome doors all over the neighborhood like some sort of Astoria fairy godmother?”

I did not specify where I was going to put them and was somewhat taken back that he guessed I was putting them anywhere but my own property. Though, I suppose, given my age it would be unlikely I had property in Astoria.

He laughed at this. And I laughed too. “Astoria Fairy Godmother.” Sounds good to me.

Night fell and my partner in crime met me in the park. I was already scoping out trees and found the first prime candidate. We were both dressed in black. A small backpack carried a hammer I didn’t want to be seen walking around the park with. It would be suspicious at best if I was roaming around with a hammer. We’d have to be stealthy and quick so to not get caught. There were three gnome doors.

“Do you want me to hammer?”

“Are you good at hammering?”

“I used to build sets for plays.”

Of course she did. Theater kids. (Though I too was once a theater kid.)

And so, we did our duty to make the park a little more whimsical. The thought of a child’s mind being blown at the sight of a little door on a tree just tickled me. Like finding a buried treasure. There simply can’t be enough magic in the world.

On my runs around the park the following week I’d check on my doors. Last I checked, one was missing. If a kid pulled it off in excitement to try to open it to see what was inside, I would be okay with that. If an adult had taken it off, I’d seriously question what the fuck was wrong with that person.

Quite exciting to me, was snapping this picture. Where a light orb is seen just above the little door. “Look! A fairy is entering the door!” I exclaimed. And even though it’s small as a gnome door, it’s a small perfect moment.