A Stairway of Transition

By Marie F. Martin
stairway2In pondering what to blog about my mind returned to Kathy’s theme of life’s transitions. Blinny Platt of Harbored Secrets goes through a continuing upheaval and this is how she manages to deal with one. A little pretense goes a long way in overcoming turmoil. The following is an except from her story.

No amount of pouting or worrying would make it happen any faster. Or put a halt to it. Didier would arrive when he arrived. To help pass the afternoon, I hustled upstairs to retrieve my library book from the bedside table. I held The Good Earth against my chest. The well-worn classic smelled of ink and many hands. I embraced comfort from the sense that so many people had read the words I now enjoyed.
Would that sense of connection be lost on the isolated prairies? Returning to the homestead was beyond comprehension, so was leaving my very own room. I flopped on the bed to memorize each detail: tiny cracks in the plaster, the slight slant of the blue curtains on the window, and the nick in the dresser I kept rubbing with lemon oil.
Concentrating on the familiar imperfections calmed my growing apprehension, and I determined to stay in control. Pretense was the only way to do so. I’d be a highborn lady and contain myself with precise movements. I would calmly read and calmly wait for Didier on the veranda.
I glided down the hardwood stairs to the main floor with all the elegance Princess Elizabeth possessed.

Maybe one just needs to glide down a stairway every time they are fussing internally about something. For me I want my buddy Katy Lou at the bottom of that descent. Marie F Martin_edited-1 (2)

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