Steps and Stairs

There is something special about a step.

The front step of one’s house can represent a welcome transition to home at the end of a day. Sitting on the back step of one’s abode with a cuppa, can bring a sense of tranquil contentment - unless the lawn still needs mowing.

I’ve not realised until today how many of my treasured memories involve steps.

I remember as a child I would sit on the step at our front door, telling our pet dog all about my day at school. I’d sing to him the new songs I had learned. I’d tell him about the fun and not so fun interactions I’d had with my friends. I’d pat him in time with my monotonous practice of my times tables. (It seems though, that not enough pats were given, as even today I cannot recite any of those essential sums.)

As a young teenager, when spending a day at the Alex, I’d often come down the back stairs from the auditorium into the foyer after the show. There was a certain step which enabled me to see a large area of the foyer without being easily observed myself. I would stand there, quietly watching audience members, and often the cast, crew and staff, interacting with one another. It was such a happy place.

One of my most treasured memories from when my beautiful son was a baby, was sitting on the back step with him after his afternoon nap. I’d seat him on my lap and cuddle him, singing nursery rhymes as he slowly woke up. I’m sad to say the number of those childhood songs I remembered had diminished over the years, so my beautiful son probably grew tired of hearing the same ones so often repeated.

A favourite poem of my childhood is “Halfway Down”.  It was written by A.A. Milne, and published in 1924 in his book of poems called “When We Were Very Young”.

Halfway down the stairs

Is a stair

Where I sit.

There isn’t any

Other stair

Quite like

It.

I’m not at the bottom,

I’m not at the top;

So this is the stair 

Where 

I always

Stop.

Halfway up the stairs

Isn’t up,

And it isn’t down.

It isn’t in the nursery,

It isn’t in the town.

And all sorts of funny thoughts

Run round my head:

“It isn’t really

Anywhere!

It’s somewhere else

Instead!”

As I read this lovely, whimsical poem again, I can’t help but think how beautifully it describes the transitional role of a set of stairs, not only physically but psychologically.

So next time you need a break, find a step to sit on for a while, preferably without any electronic distraction in your hands. You may be surprised at how much of a calming effect it has upon your day.

Nikki