There’s a stone wall at the edge of the field near Crail, the kind built centuries ago without mortar, each rock balanced carefully on the next. In the middle of it is a narrow gate, just wide enough for one person at a time.
When I walk there, I always pause. It’s not a grand entrance. No sweeping archway or carved sign. Just a small, unassuming passage from one field into another. Yet stepping through it feels like a quiet ceremony.
We tend to imagine thresholds as big, dramatic moments—moving house, starting a new job, boarding a plane to somewhere far away. But most of life’s real thresholds are small. A word of encouragement spoken at the right time. A shift in how you see yourself. The moment you decide, even quietly, I could live here.
The stone wall reminds me: not all gates are obvious. Some look like ordinary gaps. You only know it’s a crossing when you take the step.
So I try to notice the small gates. They’re everywhere. And they don’t require luggage. Just attention.
Ellen Barone is an American writer and wanderer. After 15 years as an independent content creator for travel and tourism, she has been enjoying extended stays abroad for the past decade, the inspiration behind her travel memoir, "I Could Live Here" (November 2023)