The new ordinary

My windows have shutters.  Not the ornamental kinds I'm used to on American houses, but real, functioning wooden shutters.  I open them each morning, shuffling out in slippers stuck into sandals, or, on wet and cold days, just reaching out the window as far as I can, trying to push the shutter flat against the wall.  When I do go outside, the latches still make me smile, diminutive soldiers who hold our shutters open all day long.