17 Steps

May 29, 2024

The Roof

The ancient key clicks the front door unlocked. My hands full so I push it open with my foot and it releases a pleasant whiff of nostalgia into the world. The glass door that creeks shut behind me allows the sun to bleed into the dusty corners of the foyer. The stairs that direct me to comfort sound hollow as I walk up them. I count each step and after the 17th I am greeted by my bedroom. I open the thin door to blank walls where memories used to hang. The peeling ceiling and the uncovered hole surrounding the bulky window ac unit never bothered me. I sweep up the remanence of the sand from our final beach day and I patch the holes from the gallery wall. The closet that was once full of dreams is now packed away into a box. For one last time I listen and watch as the train two blocks away blares its horn and its wheels slightly shake the remainder of keepsakes in my room.  I reminisce the chaos when it returns to silence and stillness. My best friend lays cuddled in her sheets a door away from me. She awaits my uninvited but welcomed entrance through her doorway. Our excitement to see each other matches a kids with candy, no matter the duration between visits. Eagerly we climb under a lace curtain through her window and onto the roof. This reliable structure has supported every hope and dream, kept every secret, and held all the people that matter to us most. The safest space for our laughter, tears, prayers and regrets. Day after day we gather our thoughts and meet each other to watch and relate to the weeds in the yard, growing to great lengths then getting trimmed down on the third Thursday of every month. Growing and dying constantly with the world on that roof. Now we must learn to do it without.