The Basement Stairs

Anastasia’s Story

I am five years old, sitting on the basement steps, wondering. My mommy and daddy are right before me arguing while I sit there—on the basement stairs, second or third from the bottom. I don’t recall ever having seen arguing before, upset, conflict, division, chaos, upheaval.

Mine is a world of order, unity, practical day-to-day doings, comings and goings; family, community, participation in life, mostly lively and happy. A few tears now and then, nothing very big as I think back on it now.

But now in this moment, something different, bringing confusion to my child mind, just as I am entering an age and stage where I am beginning to wonder, am called to consider, as I sit here on the basement stairs, the meaning of things. So I ask myself, “What am I to do with what I am watching here?”

After all, we had only come down here to the basement to work on mommy’s canning closet. A brief family time of seeing the pears and the peaches on the shelves daddy built. And, of course, the pickles, bread and butter pickles, and always lots of kosher ones with dill.

I watch now – mommy and daddy – upset, arguing, angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anger before. Certainly not between mommy and daddy, maybe once or twice at me but I forget. This I will remember.

Who am I that is sitting here watching this upset?

Who are they? Still mommy and daddy?

And, of course, almost biggest for me – what am I supposed to do here?

Later I will know. And what I know will become New Horizons’ Small Zones of Peace” Project and the Possible Human, Possible Society Study.

At least as far as I can figure it out for now.