Tackling the Steps

With a metallic squeal, the trap door pulls open. Something catches, probably one of the springs, it needs to be closed and then reopened. It works on the second try. Bits of dust and vermiculite fall down as the door is opened. It has been a while since I’ve been up in the attic; the dust has had plenty of time to accumulate.

    As the door creaks open the dark rectangle of the opening appears. The impression of rafters can be seen in the weak light filtering up from the hallway. One of the two springs that pull the door shut, hangs out of line. It no longer notches into the metal retainer as it should, it hangs out, closer to the steps. Right into the path needed to climb into the attic.

    Unfolding the steps, I unconsciously lean away from the spring. I don’t trust it. Well over 60 years ago, the hook on the end had broken off just as my father had started up the stairs. I wasn’t there but I remember the scar. The spring was replaced but it still worries me! Ever since that happened, I have always approached these stairs with apprehension.

    When the door opens and the springs stretch out, they sing. When they reach the point where the weight of the steps overcome the strength of the springs, there is still a twang heard.

    The spring on the right settles between two struts, holding it in position. The one on the left sits a bit off center, humming as it finds its position.

    These stairs are old and the individual steps creak as I put my weight on them. They appear solid, there are no visible cracks, yet each step produces another noise. I listen carefully for the sound of one of them breaking.

    They aren’t wide and I have to twist slightly to get past the one spring. My face comes close to it as I start and I look closely each time, trying to see if there are any new cracks or indications that it might fail. With every step, the spring sings a bit and the hook at its end tries to snag my clothing.

    My head rises up above the ceiling joists and the boards nailed to them. They are grey and dirty. The house is nearly 90 years old and no paint or finish has ever been put on these boards. There are knotholes in them and they aren’t all even. One side sits higher than the other. I can see boxes and old furniture in the shadows under the rafters.

    When I get high enough, I swing my hand around above me. Muscle memory from decades of coming up into the attic finds the string hanging from the peak of the roof. A quick pull and the attic lights up.

    At one time this area was packed full of items, leftovers from my parents and my lives. I have been working for years to clean it up. Like any project that requires time, it doesn’t always go in the direction you want it to. There are times when the recently cleared spaces under the eaves get refilled with more items, things that aren’t needed but can’t be thrown away. Being a collector, or a pack rat, makes it difficult!

    I’ve come up to do some more cleaning. I’ll be trying to find some things that have outlived their usefulness. I’ll be separating the nostalgic from the unnecessary. And then, deciding if they really are useless. It won’t be easy. It is often very tough to determine something’s need.

    The toughest part is past, that’s getting up the steps safely. Now, getting back down will be another thing!

One Step at a Time

 Out on a drive, visiting some of my favorite photo haunts, I naturally ended up taking a “few” photographs. Looking at them later I saw that a good many of them where of the same subject.

    The haunts I spoke of are places I visit whenever I am in the neighborhood. They are places that have grabbed my attention in the past, something there has stuck in my memory. Mostly, they are pictures that I want to take. It seems simple enough, go and line up the camera and snap the picture… Unfortunately, the many pictures I’ve taken in these places haven’t yet matched what I had envisioned.

    When looking at a scene, I often pre-visualize what I think the picture should look like. Sadly, the pictures in my head and the one on my computer screen or on the negatives are often different. The lighting may be off, the picture may have been taken too far away or too close or maybe the shot isn’t focused as well as it could’ve been. It can be tough meeting the expectations of my mind!

    While looking through the day’s pictures I noticed a trend. There were a lot of pictures of steps.

    Steps have always interested me as subjects for pictures. They take us places and often we pass them by, never finding out where they might lead. The steps can be opportunities; they can raise us up and let us see things we wouldn’t have otherwise. 

    Steps can be just short moves, a course of action that will take us elsewhere. Sometimes they are clear and obvious while at other times, they can be difficult to see and tough to traverse. Taking these steps can sometimes be rough, working our way through weeds and brush that has covered the treads.

    There are many steps we take every day, all through our lives. From getting up in the morning to dragging our sorry butts back again at the end of the day. These are just the physical steps we take, think of all the mental steps and challenges we take on a daily basis. Do we go up the steps or down, or do we just avoid them and tackle other problems, other steps? There are times you don’t know where they will take you and other times, the steps can save you!

    Steps or stairs, we find them everywhere. In our childhood they keep us away from places we want to go. Over time, we learn to overcome these obstacles and work our way, step by step, up and into the future of our lives.

    Back in the past, we crawled up the steps, each step another accomplishment. Bringing with it the pleasure of slipping back down again on our rumps, each tread accompanied with laughter.

    Little did we realize that we would be climbing stairs for the rest of our lives. Some would be a simple inch or two high while others would seem impossible to overcome. These would be the challenges of life, the desire to always achieve something higher.

    As we climb these stairs we occasionally stumble and that’s to be expected, it’s nothing to worry about, it’s all part of the process. We learn from these trips, slips and loss of balance.

    We start on these stairs when we are fresh from the womb. Learning to feed, learning who our families are and learning who loves us and sadly, who might harm us. There are millions upon millions of steps in the staircase which will lead us in the end, to our demise.

    Every morning when we wake up, we face the stairs again. Hopefully we can look at each step we take as a new height, a new accomplishment, a new personal best. By finding something exciting about each stair, every new height, we can fly up the steps.

    Pictures of steps remind me of the many opportunities I’ve passed by. They are a visualization of the tough, difficult journeys and goals I’ve strived for. They also remind me of all the successful attempts I managed to achieve. The pictures remind me to keep going up... one step at a time!