(As posted by Jan at RevGalBlogPals)
Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn't any
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
So this is the stair
Halfway up the stairs
And isn't down.
it isn't in the nursery,
it isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
"It isn't really
It's somewhere else
— A. A. Milne
“Halfway Down,” When We Were Very Young
First of all, I love this poem. Three years ago it became the text for a blog post/letter to #1 Son as he began his 3rd year of college, and that became the core of a sermon.
Now, the Friday Five.
Thinking of your childhood as a stairway, when did you feel (and how did you feel then)
1. at the bottom? — The stairs of life looked high to me, slippery like our uncarpeted and shiny staircase. I wondered how I would manage them. I liked it when my father carried me up or down, piggyback.
2. at the top? — By the end of my adolescence, we lived in a house with carpeted steps that were "hidden," and I too felt constrained and ready to break out!
3. halfway? — Ah, at the halfway point, we moved to a split-level for a year, and I remember the odd sensation of having more choices about where to be, not just upstairs and downstairs.
4. At this point in your life, where would you place yourself on your own stairway? — At the foot of our stairs, you'll always find a little pile of things that need to be carried up, and at this point I'm aware of all the responsibilities I carry on the stairway, things no one else will either bother or be able to restore or resolve.
5. Identify a place for you that "isn't really anywhere" but "somewhere else instead."– The Internet! It's the odd somewhere/nowhere place where I've connected with old friends and kept in touch with family and made a quite amazing number of new friends in recent years.