The Front Steps

I've always been a step sitter. As a child at the old homestead, I recall sitting there watching bugs trundle across the cement sidewalk. I would watch how the trees whispered to each other in the summer breezes. We had two steps to the front door. They were brick, I think. The cement slab before the door didn't count as a step, just the steps themselves. They were warm in the summer. And even if the sun was bright in the winter they were kinda warm. I would watch the cars and trucks and kids on bikes go by, although it wasn't that busy of a street. I could watch my brother play cars or toss a football, then decide I would join him, if he let me, that is. Some days I would just sit there and watch the world go by for a long time, dreaming, wishing, puzzling for what seemed like hours.

When I grew up, the first house we owned had an enclosed porch. There were steps out front, but I don't recall having much time to sit then. Until we moved to the new house, I seemed to have kept indoors to sit and think. Of course we had a toddler to walk around with before too long and sitting seemed out of the question.

The house we moved to has five brick steps. The house was built in 1926 and the bricks on the facade and the steps look to be that old. As the children (yes, there were two by then), grew, they loved to step sit with their mom. We would watch the birds fly by and name them if we could. We watched the plants grow, felt the sun on our faces, waved to the neighbors. The cats would come and sit with me, getting a scratch behind the ears. Sometimes they would settle near me and watch the birds with more interest than I. When the children were in school, and before I was working, I would wander out on nice days before they came home and wait for them. They would come chattering down the street (or slouch sullenly during middle school years) and we would share a few moments looking at artwork or homework or talk about the doings of the day. Occasionally, I would wonder what it would feel like when they moved out, sitting here in the sun watching other kids come home.

And so now, I don't have to wonder anymore. The children have indeed moved on and out. Hubby and I have the place to ourselves. I still like to step sit, although it seems harder to get up from them now. I watch the neighbors children come home from school, I see the cat from down the street pause on the sidewalk in front of our house and watch me watching him. And I can still hear the trees whispering to each other in the breeze. Some things just don't change.