Four Flights of Stairs

Four Flights of Stairs
By Betzann Carroll

The four flights of stairs looked very different first thing in the morning, than they did after walking home from a long day’s work. With the wind whipping against my face and my frozen feet sliding along ice encrusted snow mounds in every direction, I trudged on to my fourth floor apartment without an elevator. The stairs seemed to be my enemy. Having made it up those stairs, I comforted myself with the assurance this freezing February 14th would be spent right where I was. As soon as I thawed out I would prepare for a guest.

When my guest arrived, he had another plan. He wanted to go for a ride and discover a new place. I thought it better to visit a new place on the Discovery Channel. We could play a game, read together, or even talk. He was the most handsome and exciting man I had ever dated. I enjoyed his company and applauded his values and faith. Yes, a stimulating conversation would be much more challenging than another trip down “those” stairs. Determination was also one of his virtues. I have since learned he doesn’t give up easily. It was Valentine’s Day and I did not see any flowers or candy behind his back. Maybe he had something in the car. I did want to be with him, in a nice warm room. His authentic New England accent convinced me to bundle up and meet him at the stairs, “those” stairs.

The walk to the car was more pleasant than I imagined. This strong man guided me safely to the car as he covered me with his blanket of muscles. The car was still somewhat warm. Looking over my shoulder I could see the Boston skyline as I glanced around, still looking for hidden flowers or a package. No, nothing in sight. So what, I was in a warm car with the man of my dreams going somewhere, anywhere. I was just fine.

He seemed to be turning off the highway now. The way was dark as he pulled his small Vega under some huge pine trees. When he turned off the headlights, it was pitch black. Always looking ahead, I worried whether we would get stuck in this snow. The engine stopped and there was silence. Please don’t say let’s get out and walk. “Where are we?” I asked. Walden Pond!

It wasn’t so cold. In fact, I think I was getting warm, even hot. “I have something to ask you”, he said. Now my heart was pulsating and anticipation was taking over. There was no music, flowers or candlelight. Until, you guessed it. He asked me that question and twenty-nine years later I am still thrilled.

The cold was not a problem. The biting wind now felt like a summer breeze. And the stairs, I think I floated instead of walked. However, we never lived on the fourth floor after that.