Home Base
Friday, August 28, 2009 at 12:00PM Our house was one of the few row homes left that still had a wall separating the living room from the staircase. In most of the houses, the wall was taken down so the staircase stood open, overlooking the living room. But not our house, our house still had the wall. And boy do I remember that wall.
I remember the many times I stood on the landing of that staircase, with my hand on that wall. My small hand on the part of that wall where the glow of the living room light still reached it. I remember looking up and seeing the Kilimanjaro of steps that I had to climb before I’d reach safety again.
And I remember the many minutes I stood there, preparing myself for the mad sprint up that mountain of stairs. And how I could still hear the tv and my parents’ voices behind that wall, drifting over me like a safety net of reassurance, as I would try to convince myself you can do it.
I remember how I would look back and forth between the stairs and my hand as I prepared. Up at the stairs, down at my hand. Up at the stairs, down at my hand. The hand was the key, you see. As long as my hand was on that part of the wall, I was safe. Because that part of the wall was my home base. And the monsters knew that. They knew they couldn’t touch me as long as my hand was on that part of the wall, still in the light. But once it left, the minute I let go, I was fair game. And they would be waiting for me.
Up at the stairs, down at my hand.
Ready.
Up at the stairs.
Set.
Down at my hand.
Go!
And then I’d take off.
Running, running as fast as my little legs could take me up those stairs. Focusing on that same hand as it came slamming down on each step, getting me closer and closer to safety. Running, bounding up the stairs, no longer in the light, no longer able to hear the tv or my parents soothing voices. The only sound now was the quick pounding of my heart in between the screaming silence of the darkness.
Running, climbing, until I could see the hallway night light. It was my beacon. If I could just get to that soft dim light.
Go! Go! Go! You’re almost there!
And then finally, I’d see my hand slam down on the hallway floor. But that’s when I would start to feel them. Feel them nipping at my ankles as I tried to pull myself upright. I’d feel their claws scraping on my skin and their sharp teeth snapping at my pants, tugging at me. Always trying to pull me into their darkness!
Nooooooooooooooooooooo!
Silently screaming, I’d wrestle myself free and sprint to the bathroom, frantically feeling around for the light switch.
Where are you? Where’s the light? Oh God! Where is it!!
And just when they were about to get me, just when I could feel their breath on the back of my neck, my hand would find it! The light!
Bright, beautiful light.
And then I’d be standing there in that glorious pool of light staring at my hand. My hand was always the first thing I would see. Right there in front of me, still holding the switch.
After a few minutes, as my heart slowed back down to a normal pace, I would once again hear the voices downstairs drifting towards me. Fainter now, but still there. I was safe.
I remember how good it felt to finally be safe.
Yeah, I remember those days. And those monsters.
Which is why these days, I don’t hesitate whenever I hear that slight tremor in my daughter’s voice as her words drift towards me.
but…but, it’s dark…please…I’m scared…
I don’t hesitate.
I walk over to her and let her know, I’ll take you to the bathroom, Piper.
I reassure her, I’ll go with you, sweetie.
And then we go together, hand in hand.
Momish
I just submitted this post for this month’s Write Away contest over at Scribbit’s! The theme for this month was “Fear” which I figured pretty much summed up this post in a nutshell.
Reader Comments (2)
I remember trying to jump from the top of the stairs to the bottom. It was quicker and whatever was coming for me would probably not expect me to be flying through the air. ;)
You're a good mama.
There are times when even I will jump into bed quicker than normal, not liking to think about things under the bed.