I stood at the bottom of the stairs and pondered. What was so private at the top of those stairs? An enchanting entrance of some sorts? A place to escape a
nd settle down for a while? Perhaps a sanctuary of some sorts. Twenty-five steps to find out. Just take the next step please. One at a time.
Feeling relentless, my discovery is waiting for me. I begin the upward adventure of the stairs. One by one my heart beats. My nostrils wiggle as a deliciously scent is inhaled. Reaching the top of the steps I turn towards the door. A gentle knock. A bit of a wait. The door opens and I walk right in.
A window is to my right and a view of the river is seen. A wooden table with a starchy white tablecloth catches my eye. The room is filled with a feeling of relaxation. Upon the table is a plate and silverware. A teapot and a cup of tea. Finger sandwiches atop a three tier plate rack. Fruit artistically cut and arranged on the second plate. At the bottom are scones and other assorted sweets.
I invite myself to sit in the handcrafted wooden chair. Twisted dowels run vertically up and down the back. Wicker webbing laced tightly to sit upon. I take a deep breath. An envelope is lying on the table to my right. It has my name on it. Glancing out the window I draw the atmosphere inward. Placing the cloth napkin in my lap waiting for the meal to commence. It was serene, it was warm, it was just right. Myself at the table, private. The taste, smells and solitude was made to order.
Yes, the stairway led to my private time. To reflect, dream, pray and renew my senses. Private is welcome. Private is restrictive. Private is control. Private is non exposure. Private is quiet. I rest my peace. ~Patrick