Imagine a key. You don’t have to imagine it, as you're holding one in your hand. A key is the object you use day in and day out without a thought. You were so excited when you were given your first one, by your mother on your first day of junior high. But there were other ones too. Like the one that opens your first diary, and the one you were given the day you bought your home. That is your favourite so far. It is a simple key. A silver one with three small, perfect numbers carved into it. Apartment 314. Your home. The key represents your life now, settled and calm, just the way that the black flip-up key to your car represents the need to be elsewhere and to be free, the exact way the tie-dye key you were given to your boyfriend's home shows the future; colourful and exciting as there are many new possibilities to explore. You have keys that sit on your dresser, unused. You have keys that are so rough that they hardly open anything anymore. But you also have the few that you keep dear to your heart; the ones that open all the closed drawers, chests and safes, as they are the ones that make you feel powerful.

Now imagine, sitting on a cold, hard metal bench, and seeing the man in the dark blue uniform slowly, yet steadily, closing the hard iron door and locking it into place. The officer hangs the ring of keys on their hook by the window and they jingle, reminding you of the wind chime your mother hung on the white porch of your old farmhouse. You wish that you could be there now. See her unlatch the wooden pen and feed the chickens, who were making so much noise that your ears hurt. Watch her hand your younger brother the keys to the rusty red truck, so that he could take his girlfriend, who you would never meet, out on a date. The one he planned to propose to her on. You shift your weight on the rigid bench, still staring longingly at those keys. The keys that you would never be able to reach, even if you stretched your arms out through the bars, as far as they would go. Hopelessly imprisoned. Do you try and make a break for it, the next time the man in blue comes in to give you your fresh orange jumpsuit? Or do you quietly sit there, patiently, and continue dreaming, until your eyes close for eternity?

Imagine you are homeless. The cold air nimbly whisking up goose bumps on your fair skin. Tightly holding your thin purple wool sweater around you, wishing that the black night would offer some shelter and comfort. You stare helplessly at the others around you, families even, who have no place to call home, and no food to feed their little ones. Then you spot it. Posted against the telephone pole, roughly marked with a number, streaked in grey across the dirt-caked page. A key. Shiny as ever, threaded with a small red ribbon, sealed tightly in a plastic bag. Your hand instinctively stretches out, and pulls the bag from its hook, excitedly wondering what you have just discovered. The picture of the apartment shocks you, and when your eyes fall upon the address, you put all the pieces together. You have found the key to freedom. In your tiny pink hands, there is a chance of survival from these horrid and relentless winter nights. But once again, you raise your ice blue eyes to the surroundings, and wonder if there is someone out there who needs it more? Who deserves it more? You are young and have some strength left in you, but some of the others are not quite as lucky. Frail and fragile, as they have spent countless nights relying deeply on the cruel community for compassion. Do you leave the key for them to find, and then let the warmth of a good deed tie you over until you yourself see a way out? Or do you simply pretend nothing happened, and slowly release yourself from the group, and never look back?

That key that you have spent all this time imagining, is right there in your hand. You carefully open your palm, and look at the object. What is its true purpose? You can think of so many things that it can do. How it can mean freedom, happiness, hopelessness, and even greed. A key is used to open a door, but it can also be used to close one. Its glinting gold or silver appearance deceives you into believing that its value is more monetary than physical and emotional. A key represents protection to some people, while at the same time, it can mean feeling left out to another. The object that you carry around in your pocket, and complain about losing, is an object that you have never given a second thought to, except for now, at this moment. What does a key mean to you? Will you wish for something more when you grasp it in your hand, waiting to open the long awaited mahogany box that lays on the floor beside your floral-sheeted bed? Or will you be happy with what you get, knowing that it is all you shall ever require? You open the box, imagine that.