When I was a little girl the basement was a scarey place.
Each stair was just a step without a back, so I thought that if you were small enough, you could slip right through.
Mothers sewing room was in the very back of the house. A large and stark room with concrete block walls and a concrete floor.
During the day, it was no problem going downstairs for any reason in the world, but at night…. Ooh, that was a different subject. I mean, to walk quickly might cause me to go through the back of the stairs and fall to my death, but if I didn’t run…. that evil thing that lived in the basement might attack! It was such a dilemna in my life!
Sometimes Mom did minor alterations upstairs while we all watched tv. There were many occasions when she would realize that she had forgotten something and needed that something to complete her work. The next thing I would hear was, “Becky, go get my seam ripper from the drawer of the sewing cabinet please.” Oh no! “MOM! I don’t want to go, can’t you take a break and run down and get it ?”. She would just laugh and say, “Nothing is going to get you, silly!” But she just didn’t know! Then she would say, “Just go turn the lights on before you start down, then wait til you get to the top of the stairs before you turn them off. If you see anything, or anyone that’s not suppose to be here, hollar.”, oh I was gonna hollar alright! I figured I’d scream so loud the neighbors would hear, and they would come save me! I would reluctantly run down the stairs as Mom would hollar, “Don’t fall!”