LJ Idol Week 2
The Missing Stair
Our back deck is missing a stair leading to the back yard. This missing step is only one of many things the house needs, but it's significant. It's only one stair, but its absence means we all have to jump from the deck to the yard. I'm not a leap of faith kind of person. I don't mind taking chances from time to time, but I like to have more assurance that everything is going to be okay.
The missing stair makes me uneasy. It gives me that feeling that you get when you're almost asleep and you half-dream that you're tripping over a curb, and then you wrench yourself awake, heart pounding. I don't feel quite comfortable in this house. I feel like it's waiting to see what kind of people we are. Maybe it doesn't want us here. I hope it does, as with a little bit of nurturing this house could be our forever home.
Right now the house tests us. It's been mistreated, and perhaps it feels like we're going to be just as bad as the previous inhabitants. So far we're being kind. We've replaced the vandalized HVAC unit and the damaged roof. We've completed some minor plumbing repairs. We're working on turning the house into a home, but currently we have a lot of unpacking to do. I'm encouraged that, despite my unease, sleeping alone in the house was okay. However, we have something of a wasp problem (and that reminds me of the Overlook Hotel), and the roaches just keep showing up.
The missing stair has come to symbolize my inability to venture out into the back yard of my mind. I don't seem to be able to create very much these days. I have the desire but lack the initiative. I don't know what's holding me up. I think perhaps I'm missing that step. I can jump into there but then it takes effort to get back, and I have to be able to get back right away these days. I can't lose myself in projects the way I used to because real-world responsibilities. How have I made it this far without figuring out how to balance these aspects of my life?
None of the other homes I've lived in have had missing stairs. Maybe I've been waiting my whole life to move into this one, so together we can repair the damage we've experienced at the hands of others.
I haven't told anyone how I feel about the stair. I don't really want people to know how it worries me. I don't think it's rational. It doesn't make sense that replacing a step would change everything. But I think it could.
Our back deck is missing a stair leading to the back yard. This missing step is only one of many things the house needs, but it's significant. It's only one stair, but its absence means we all have to jump from the deck to the yard. I'm not a leap of faith kind of person. I don't mind taking chances from time to time, but I like to have more assurance that everything is going to be okay.
The missing stair makes me uneasy. It gives me that feeling that you get when you're almost asleep and you half-dream that you're tripping over a curb, and then you wrench yourself awake, heart pounding. I don't feel quite comfortable in this house. I feel like it's waiting to see what kind of people we are. Maybe it doesn't want us here. I hope it does, as with a little bit of nurturing this house could be our forever home.
Right now the house tests us. It's been mistreated, and perhaps it feels like we're going to be just as bad as the previous inhabitants. So far we're being kind. We've replaced the vandalized HVAC unit and the damaged roof. We've completed some minor plumbing repairs. We're working on turning the house into a home, but currently we have a lot of unpacking to do. I'm encouraged that, despite my unease, sleeping alone in the house was okay. However, we have something of a wasp problem (and that reminds me of the Overlook Hotel), and the roaches just keep showing up.
The missing stair has come to symbolize my inability to venture out into the back yard of my mind. I don't seem to be able to create very much these days. I have the desire but lack the initiative. I don't know what's holding me up. I think perhaps I'm missing that step. I can jump into there but then it takes effort to get back, and I have to be able to get back right away these days. I can't lose myself in projects the way I used to because real-world responsibilities. How have I made it this far without figuring out how to balance these aspects of my life?
None of the other homes I've lived in have had missing stairs. Maybe I've been waiting my whole life to move into this one, so together we can repair the damage we've experienced at the hands of others.
I haven't told anyone how I feel about the stair. I don't really want people to know how it worries me. I don't think it's rational. It doesn't make sense that replacing a step would change everything. But I think it could.