Lesson 6 – Memory

Ok. She could do this. She had to get used to going down to the basement again. It was a key part of their home – where they hung laundry, where they stored their bikes, their lawnmower. The rickety stairs leading down had always been a problem. No wonder her mom had met her fate at the bottom of that dilapidated old staircase. Thank God Dave had installed a new light. I just have to persevere. What would Mom say? “Don’t be ridiculous. Get on with your life.” Here I go.

I opened the basement door, which was hidden inside the closet, forcefully. Even though the overhead closet light was on, the narrow hall leading to the basement was dimly lit. I stretched my hand out into the basement, and above the stairs, and felt for the dangling chain to the light switch. I pulled it, and stepped back blinking as the sudden bright light pushed me away.

I could see the stairs clearly now. My mom’s body as it had been that night. Strewn across the cement floor, laundry scattered around her, and the surprised look frozen on her face.

No, she closed her eyes, pushing the memory away. She had to get past this. One step at a time. She reached for the handrail, determined to move forward. Willing herself forward. She slowly descended the stairway, thinking of other things. Good things. Her Mom’s ability to find a song for every mood. What would this be? Stairway to Heaven came to mind, and she let out a laugh as the tears streamed down her face. Her mom had surely taken that stairway up to heaven, not down to hell.

She felt her Mom with her now, and walked easily down the rest of the stairs, turned on the main light switch and moved to the cellar door to open it and let the sunlight in.