Halfway down the stairs

christopher robin

Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where i sit.
there isn’t any
other stair
quite like
it.
i’m not at the bottom,
i’m not at the top;
so this is the stair
where
I always
stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn’t up
And it isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn’t really
Anywhere!
It’s somewhere else
Instead!
A.A. Milne

Halfway down the stairs…whenever I read this delightful poem by A.A. Milne, I am reminded very much of my childhood. We lived on top of the bakery. The stairs went from our kitchen down to the small hallway in front of the store.
My favorite thing to do in the afternoon as I waited for the store to close and my parents to come upstairs, was to sit halfway down the stairs…it would be somewhat dark there with light coming from the doorway above me and light coming from the store below me. Listening to the sounds from the store of my mother talking with customers. It probably was my favorite time of the day…it meant that the day would soon be over, we would all be together upstairs and would soon have dinner.
Our store closed at 5 and once it was closed and the door locked, my mother would come up and finish making dinner(she would have been coming up and down the stairs doing dinner preparations), and my father would empty the money from the cash register for the day and sit at the kitchen table and count the money received that day and do the bookwork and the deposit slip for the bank. I would sit at the table with him and “help”…usually he gave me some pennies to count and a piece of paper or spare deposit ticket to write on. He always took me along to the bank the next day(this was before I started school).
When you have a family business, you learn early that the business has to be completed before dinner and the fun of the evening could begin. Its just the way it is!
til next time…Eva

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