The Day the Door Opened
The Day the Door Opened
A Backyard Adventure Through Jimmy’s Eyes
Some stories don’t need to be made up.
Some find you in five silent, terrifying minutes.
And sometimes, those stories are better told from the heart of a child who sees the world a little differently.
This is Jimmy’s story—told through the wonder of his eyes, and the love that caught him when it counted most.
Jimmy’s Backyard Journey
As imagined through Jimmy’s eyes—with a touch of magic, and all the truth.
The door was there.
Was it tightly shut? Maybe.
But I’ve been watching. I know things.
And today… today, it opened.
The porch gate wasn’t just unlocked—
It was wide open.
And to me, that means only one thing:
I’m allowed.
So I scooted down the porch stairs,
one bum-bounce at a time,
like a kid who’d been waiting for this exact moment.
I didn’t run.
I moved with purpose.
Like I belonged out there.
The grass tickled my hands.
The air smelled like spring.
Squirrels scattered when I passed by—
thankfully.
Animals are kinda scary,
but they’re fun to watch when they’re running away.
I knew where I was going.
The back yard.
That’s where my slide used to be.
That’s where my playhouse stood.
That’s where the fun was.
But when I got there… it was all gone.
Just grown-up stuff now.
Not mine. Not magic. Not what I expected.
So I sat.
Right on the neighbor’s back step.
Thinking.
Where did everything go?
Why is the sky spitting on my head?
And what am I supposed to do now?
Then the door opened.
A man stepped out—Daddy’s friend.
He didn’t look mad.
He didn’t yell.
He just smiled and asked,
“What are you up to, little man?”
And I knew that meant,
Time to go home.
So I skipped back across the grass,
followed him up the steps,
walked through the front door like nothing had happened.
Laid down on the floor.
Picked up my iPad.
Back to my cartoons.
Because to me?
It was nothing.
Just a little adventure.
Just a bit of wonder.
Just Jimmy,
being Jimmy.
A Note From Mom
It was maybe five minutes.
Maybe less.
But it was enough to shake me to my core.
I was home. Just not in the same room.
And in that tiny sliver of time, Jimmy found an open door…
an open gate…
and believed with all his beautiful, trusting heart that he was allowed.
Because to him, if something is open, it must mean “go.”
He wasn’t being naughty.
He wasn’t trying to run.
He was chasing familiar joy.
He remembered where his playhouse once stood,
where his slide used to be,
where laughter lived.
And he just… went.
Thank God for kind neighbors.
For timing.
For a safe return.
We’ve made changes since.
We’ve added high locks—ones he can’t reach.
We’ve taken a deep breath and said the hard words aloud:
“This could’ve been so much worse.”
But it wasn’t.
And now I get to hold him a little tighter.
Watch him a little closer.
And remember that even the scariest moments are filled with the reminder of why we love so fiercely.
This story?
It’s Jimmy’s.
But the fear, the gratitude, the unshakeable love?
That’s mine.
💛 If you’ve ever had a close call with your child, especially one with special needs, I see you. I feel you. You’re not alone.
Have you ever had a moment like this?
Come share it with me in the comments—or send me a message.
Let’s remind each other that parenthood isn’t perfect…
but it’s always powerful.
Love this story. My heart sank when Jimmy knew it was time to go home. Having such fun with the simplest of things is something we should all try to do every day. I am sure we would be so much happier than having “stuff”.
I remember going round the supermarket when my children were 2 and 4. Every child seemed to be called Robert. Parents in every part of the shop had lost Robert and were searching frantically for a little boy who was having great fun reading a magazine sitting on the floor, oblivious to shopping trolleys sailing by.
That heart stopping moment of your child not being with you is instant and unforgettable just as their adventure of not being with you is to them. Thank you for the reminder.