Stairs

worn-steps
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

At last I am here. Eyes brimming, I look at the stairs, worn by the vagaries of time but flanked with love by Mother Nature. Do you think you could guess my ecstasy? Never. Not even my soul mate could feel the flutter of my heart. Holding hands we look at the steps as I hurtle back in time and he gently embraces me.

“Thank you,” the words are muffled in my throat. I had yearned for this day. Recurring dreams evoked me to come here. We had planned this visit for ages. A visit I would cherish for the rest of my life. A visit that brought me back to my childhood. I am thrilled that the stairs have not been altered, each one holds my steps – tells a story of those carefree days, each one reverberating the games we played – running up and down, skipping two or four – the center of competition for the children of the house, each one a promise to self.

Time flew and exhilarating on the wings of youth, I went up to university and lost touch with those little moments of sitting on the stairs to share stories of the day, to watch stars and sing songs, oblivious of the world.

Grandpa was a youngster when he admired the construction workers while his dad was away at work. He would rush home after school to see how each brick was laid. He had told us all the stories of getting inspired from the workers he observed. He aspired to be like them. The charm of his stories and his loving face was associated with these stairs. A heart-warming memory.

Emotions overwhelm me as I step on the stairs that nurtured me; that gave a spring to my steps and taught me to climb higher. I did but I left them behind. Almost forgot about them. I sit and share many stories that I had buried into the fissures of my heart and realize how tiny moments are more precious than achievements of life – in fact they mold us. A cheerful and free childhood is a blessing.

The blue door opens and children rush out to play games on the stairs. They look at us curiously as if we were blocking their playground. We stand aside and watch – games never change.

© Balroop Singh

Thanks to Sue Vincent for an inspiring Thursday #writephoto prompt Worn

You can click here for my poetry.

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48 thoughts on “Stairs

  1. The memories of childhood are some of the most precious we hold, always to be treasured and cherished. I hold a strong fascination with those carefree days of life and laughter in the past. You captured the gilded whimsy of those days beautifully, Balroop!

      1. My childhood home has been the venue of all the family gatherings even now in my dreams though I had left it behind 40+ years. Such is the magic of homes that nurture us. 🙂

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