The Stairway by Matthew Marler

The iron circular stairway spiraled precipitously from the floor to some unseen destination above. For John, it might as well have been a mountain of impossible height. He took the first few steps and was immediately winded and felt pain in his wobbly old knees. He placed one shoe-clad foot on the next step and heaved his wiry 130 pound frame upwards. He decided then he had to take a break and sat down on the steps, breathing heavily.

He needed to get to the top; he needed to be with his life’s great love. He hadn’t made it to the top in a long time, but then, he hadn’t needed to travel so far to be with her. She was in a new place now, a good place he hoped. That awful hole in the ground she had been lowered into only hours before seemed a horrible place to end life. John was sure she could now only be found in their special place at the top of the circular stair.

He rubbed his sweaty, leathery hands on his faded baggy jeans. He noticed his shoes had once again sprung their seams and more duct tape would be required to hold them together. His daughter had been horrified when he had shown up at the funeral wearing such motley attire but for him, it had been a last tribute to a wife who had put up with his eccentricities for nearly fifty-seven years.

Had it been so long? It seemed so short. He struggled to his feet and peered up again, as if looking one more time would give him some clue how far he had to go. He took several more painful stairs, his spine creaking and his lungs protesting. He came to a place where the stairway penetrated the ceiling to reach the floor above and saw his family smiling back. His wife had placed their pictures there as a reminder to all who traveled the stair that here, family was first.

His children had kindly offered to let him live with them –a tribute to his wife’s parental prowess. He had accepted with a smile so they would know he loved them. In fact, he had even packed all his things as a gesture of good faith. But now he had to see his wife.

He tripped on a stair, cruelly banging his knee into one side of the stairway. Life was not easy, it never had been. His wife and he had struggled in every conceivable way. At first it was a struggle with each other, then it was a struggle to find time to be with each other, and now last of all it was a struggle to find life meaningful in her absence. Groaning, and assuredly losing another year of life, he lurched to his feet and soldiered on.

He had been a soldier in the Army and ‘her’ Marine. U-rah! He could nearly hear her commanding him to ‘take the hill’ despite its’ height and difficulty. Left right left, left right left, he marched to the top to plant his flag in the ground –amidst his own life blood if necessary.

And then John was there, in their special place. The sun shined in from the perfect Autumn day through the porthole window in the apse of their sanctum. The light beamed in his face, illuminating the sweat rolling down his face.

Bookcases lined the walls and on them lived the combined knowledge of two people devoted to the betterment of their minds for the benefit of one another. Falling to one knee with a sudden pain in his chest, he grasped out and pulled himself the last little way to their treasure chest. He had to see his wife as only photographs can remind a person of what is lost from memory.

Crawling each agonizing inch, he miraculously found himself at the chest. Now to lift the lid. He had little strength left. His wife’s last words of encouragement rang in his mind and ears, “be strong!” Try as he might though, his body had given its last. With the lid tantalizingly close to open, his fingers slipped and it clanged shut with the heavy sound of failure. He propped himself and put a hand to his heart to try and stop it from beating so impossibly hard. The pain became a roaring in his ears and every muscle in his body clenched violently.

And then there she was, walking up the stairs to this place, their special place, as easily as she had when they first bought the home. John marveled he hadn’t even had to open the chest to find her once more.

“You crazy old codger, you could at least have asked for some help.”
“I had to see you. Just once more before the kids take me away.”
“You’re in luck. I’ve come to get you. We won’t ever be apart again, heaven help you.”
“How is it done?”
“Get up and I’ll show you.”

And then she grabbed John’s smooth, strong hand and lifted him to his full, proud and unbowed height. Once again he felt the vim and vigor he had missed for so long. Once again he could breath, laugh and even felt as if he could run.

John felt her perfect cheek with his finger, tracing it and then her lovely chin.

“I missed you.”
“I wasn’t gone long.”
“Yes you were, far too long.”
“You never had much patience when you had something in that thick head of yours.”
“Nope.”

And then they danced in place in each other’s arms content to let whatever meaning time has in the after-life pass them by while they stayed in one perfect moment. They had escaped time’s grasp, escaped it’s ever inexorable movement towards the conclusion of all life.

They had found the most elusive thing every one in their heart of heart’s desires, peace.