The Staircase That Separates Two Worlds

Posted on March 24, 2009
Filed Under Daily, Little Sabreen | 9 Comments

When I was little, my family used to attend and host a lot of “family parties.”
Few of us were really even related, but your parents’ friends and their children were such an important part of your life, it didn’t matter that you didn’t share the same blood type, or annoying habits. You referred to them your “aunts,” “uncles,” and “cousins,” though none of you shared a last name.

At these gatherings, the kids always hung out in one of two places — upstairs in someone’s bedroom and scattered throughout the mezzanine, or in the basement, where pizza-covered faces ran helter-skelter around the pool, foosball and ping-pong tables.

The adults were always upstairs – the men in one area, usually discussing politics and cars, and the women in another area, usually talking about clothes, and the newest Indian movie that just hit The Big Screen.

As kids, you don’t come downstairs often. You get dinner, and dessert, and smile and wave at your parents when you see them. But when your mom looks at you for too long, you run, because you know if she calls you over to her, she’ll give you the “We’re Going Home In a Half an Hour” Warning, and you have to run back upstairs to warn the rest of the gang.

In our group of friends I was the youngest, which by default made me so abnoxiously cute, you couldn’t help but want to smother my face in chocolate cake and then take a Polaroid picture of me.
My spunky personality came to the rescue when my friends and I got caught in a ring of extortion selling rubber stamps in fourth grade, but when it came to our group of family friends, my innocent face was designated as The One that would have to march downstiars onto the ”adult floor,” and ask a number of moms if a sleepover was in our near future.

Sometimes I resisted, (as resistance is futile when it comes to group peer-pressure situations) but I was mostly unsuccessful in my attempts. And on the way down the stairs, I’d get last minute instructions.

“Look sad!”

“Look cute!”

“Tell a joke!”

“Beg!”

“Cry!”

I’d get shoved down the steps, and pushed around the corner where I’d end up tangled in a woman’s party shawl that had been draped across her neck and thrown over her shoulders.

As I got passed from parent to parent waiting for someone to give the green light, I knew the rest of the troops were waiting impatiently for me upstairs.  When I returned with a smile and a look of utter glee plastered to my face, the team responded with the ritual “YESSSS!” accompanied by a customary fist pump.

When I was little, the group of boys and girls we grew up with played together — we had video game tournaments, and played basketball at the park. We played on the Slip ’N Slide, and on the seesaw and swings at nearby parks. We played kick ball, and Hide and Seek, and sometimes we even fought. Every once in a while a “No Boys Allowed” sign would go up on someone’s door because the girls were busy perfecting the steps to a choreographed dance of “I Saw the Sign” by Ace of Base, and we didn’t want to be disturbed.

Upstairs was where you told ghost stories, and used face wash for the first time because you had a friend in high school. It was where you put on make-up, and watched ”South Park” because the adults weren’t around. You laughed with your mouth full, borrowed each other’s clothes, and went to bed knowing that you didn’t have to go to school the next day.

Upstairs, life was good.

The other night, my mom and I went to a pre-wedding party for a close family friend. As we sat at the beautifully decorated tables, the conversation went from catching up with old friends, to learning about the tragedies that people have faced over the past few years — sickness, death and divorce.

As the women around me spoke of the various hardships they or people they knew had encountered, something caught my eye, and I glanced upward. There was a balcony above us, where about a dozen children were playing. They were racing, and telling secrets, playing tag, and hiding each other’s shoes. I watched as two little boys took a girl’s headband and dangled it over the banister, and that’s when I realized that the only shelter between innocence and adulthood is about a dozen stairs.

I used to be up there once, too, playing and carefree, and counting the days until my summer vacation. But now, I was downstairs in a world where common topics of conversation consisted of marriages that didn’t work, terminal illness, and financial troubles.

My thoughts floated past the children on the balcony, and back, about 15 years, to my own life. And I wondered…while we were plotting the best way to convince our parents to stay with our friends for 10 more minutes, maybe it wasn’t politics and make-up that the adults were discussing. Maybe they were talking about losing a parent, or a friend in trouble.
Just as I heard words like “cope,” “grief,” and “test” at my table of adults, maybe that’s what our parents were talking about, too.

For a moment, I wished I could have been one of those kids up on that balcony with no troubles in the world, living life without a clue as to what the future holds.
I miss the days of staying up late, and breakfast in the afternoon, but I’m happy with my life as an adult. I’m blessed with an amazing family and a wonderful group of friends, and I wouldn’t change my world for anything.

My thoughts came back to the party when I made eye contact with a little boy with big round cheeks standing against the railing of the balcony. I smiled at him and he quickly ducked to hide, though I could see his little black eyes still fixed on me through the tiny cracks between the rails.

I know that all of us will go through tragedy and heartache as we get older. People close to us will die, friends will get sick, relationships will be tested. Maybe those are the parts of life that are unavoidable, and maybe overcoming the impossible is what makes life beautiful.
But looking at that chubby little face of a boy only a staircase away from my world, I couldn’t help but hope that those kids get to stay upstairs just a little while longer.

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