they're crumbling

and

they don't end

but there are stars

so close

almost touchable

and a rail of gold

curling

in curves

walls that

creep in and out

like sea foam

on sand

downstairs

fades away

leading to a celing

of tin foil

and

glass

I see the end

there is not a bright light

just a cloud of cobwebs.

Above me

steps

I can’t remember

ones I danced on

and I do recall dancing

giddy with fulfillment.

Spiraling below

so many

more steps

promising

so much more

once you make them yours

opportunities unceasing.

Steps seem to rise

beneath your weary aching souls

when in fact

they are descending.

Contrary to popular beliefs.

None of these things matter.

Once you

see

they end.

When I was two

I do remember

No more for you

I was only two

I was hungry

You will be fat

When I was five

I collected rocks

They lived in socks

My sister had crystals

Stones which glowed

I cried

I yelled

I struck with fists

She’s your sister

Let it go

I was only five

I screamed I punched

I should be her

Hug your sister

You cannot strike

When I was ten

I read so much

Books on shelves robust

They looked so pretty

Story on story

There are so many

You must stop

I was only ten

I need a million

A few are fine

A lot

Is not

When I was twelve

I slept on and on

The room was musty

The books were dusty

You must get up

Work and clean

I was only twelve

It isn’t pressing

Why are you mean?

Busy is good

You will do your chore

When I was sixteen

My friend my queen

My body yearned

I would take

No love

I knew it not

My body quaked

The need was new

Clamp it down

You are stronger

I was only sixteen

It felt so good

Why should I stop?

With no control

There is no love

And love is all

When I was twenty one

I strode across the stage

I shook their hand

I was the best they bragged

The robe was draped

Gold and Purple

The scroll declared

First in Class

I am the best!

You must learn

There are those who know more

I was only twenty one

My chest puffed out

My nose in the air

I am the one

Be humble you can be out done

Life taught me again

Humility brought me

To the right path.

My Great Aunt was a beautiful person. Born and raised in the early 1900's. Came from one of the founding families of Edmonds Washington. She was married and divorced. I guess she was just too strong of a woman for that man to handle.

During her life she loved to travel, play bridge and golf. When my sister and I came along, she loved to spoil us. We would spend weekends at her place and go on adventures. I fondly remember her gardenia plants and their sweet scent permeating her place. Anytime she would move the gardenias were always there.

The staircase of life, or life's journey is an interesting one. Two days after her passing I was struggling with the loss. I think her spirit came to visit me. I was in bed and got chills, then there was that all familiar scent of gardenia. It was from here I knew I would be ok.

The staircase of life or life's journey can be an interesting journey. To this day the scent of gardenia brings back some wonderful memories.

When we venture on the staircase of life, remember the little things. A scent, a song, memories are more valuable than materialistic things.

Bup-bup, bup-bup, bup-bup.

Wearing gym shoes, I scampered up and down the old stairs in a small wooden home. Four of my brothers did the same. Countless times.

Upstairs was our bedroom where the five of us slept, did our homework, listened to the Detroit Tigers on the radio, and laughed at and with each other. Downstairs, the small living room was always full of life and chatter when we all were there, including my parents and my other three brothers.

But life filled the staircase, too.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Our Sunday morning shoes gave a different sound to the staircase. We were always glad when church was over and we could put on our soft gym shoes again.

Clomp-clomp, clomp-clomp, clomp-clomp.

My father climbed those steps occasionally to discipline us, joke with us, and once to save my brother Dan’s life when he was choking.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs became less and less as we grew and, one by one, left home. Along the way, my parents moved twice.

I cannot describe the sickening sound my mother made when she fell down the stairs at her last house. No one else was home to hear it. Both my father and my last brother to live there had passed away years ago.

Her fall sent my mother into a retirement home and assisted living.

Bup-bup, bup-bup, bup-bup.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Soon, the family that bought Mom’s last residential home was making noise and memories on the stairs.

My mother’s mother

Clumsily fumbled her way up

Mostly dropping my mother

From her hip

Into her latest boyfriend’s lap

My mother

Held me a little closer

But still dropped me

From time to time

To pick herself up

With whatever high she could get

A little herb or a man

What difference did it make

As she watched him

Walk me down the hall

Her steps didn’t lead very far

An unfair spiral

I would do better

Climb to the top

With my daughter on my back

No one would touch her

And she would be untouchable

No, I didn’t drop her

But on my back

I couldn’t see

That all she saw was down

When I came upon my own reflection

It cracked

From the lies

I had told myself

That I was good when I wasn’t

I tripped over a different step

But I tripped nonetheless