Thinking about keys

Today  we went to get a copy of a key made. The little shop was full of keys, all over the walls, in baskets everywhere. The young man in charge of the shop was busy with another customer. I magined him at school 

'What would you like to do when you grow up Johnny?'

''I'd like to cut keys.'

Why didn't I think of that?

My own son was fascinated  by keys from a very early age. He saw them as the entry into the magical world of cars, which he adored. All you needed was a key to make a car go brrm brrm. He had a whole collection and would insert them into all the nooks and crannies he could find.

The key cutter young man had opened up the customer's flashy key with a screwdriver and was peering inside, scratching his head and looking perplexed. More customers came in Na we all crowded round the dismantled key. We all peered inside.He set about moving round the pieces as though it was a Rubrik cube. After a lot of umming and ahhing he snapped it shut, screwed it back together and smiled. He looked triumphant and told the man to pay at the till. The young man turned to us, his confident manner restored. Just as he had finished cutting our key the previous customer returned.

He complained that the key wouldn't turn.

'Ah but I only changed the battery, just as you asked. You didn't say anything about it having to turn.'

All these keys everywhere. I've got loads of keys in drawers, big bunches of keys. Keys to lock things up, keep things in and keep things out.

How many love songs and poems invite us to find the key to a heart,a mystery, a life even?

A big golden shiny key to open up a whole bright new place.