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The Lady at The Top Of The Stairs

Story ID:3550
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Story
Location:Fort Lee NJ USA
Year:2008
Person:Ginny - My Wife
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The Lady at The Top of The Stairs

I jumped and struggled. My arm tangled in
the blankets, broke free, bounced off my face,
and reached to the left. It slapped at the night
stand, searched, and slammed down on the snooze
button. The annoying buzzing stopped.

I pulled the flannel blanket to my chin,
turned, and held her. Outside, a cold winter wind
slammed sleet against the window. I had three
more hand-searching, snooze-button-slapping
moments left. There were only three more chances
to hold Ginny for ten minutes, before I had to
get up, shower, and leave her for the day.

I watched her rise from the bed. She
disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned,
she dressed, and left the room. My hand slapped
the alarm again. I lifted my reluctant body from
bed, showered, dressed, and headed downstairs.

She met me in the kitchen, where she had
my morning tea waiting. It’s not something I ask
for, it’s what she does for me, because she wants
to. She could stay in bed, but she insists on
seeing me off in the morning. The last goodbye
could come at any time.

We spend a few moments together over our
tea. As I put my shoes and coat on,she packs the
lunch I put together the night before. I stand.
She slips into my arms. We hold.

“Have a good day, baby.” she says, as I
open the door to the basement and garage.

“I will, baby.” I turn and kiss her. “I
love you.”

“Love you more!” She smiles. “It’s my
day!”

“Yes it is. I love you too. Remember
though, tomorrow is my day to love you more.” At
the bottom of the stairs, I turn and look up. She
is standing there looking down at me. “I love
you, baby. I’ll call you when I get to work.”

The workday drags on. I fight my way
through one issue after another. At noon, I call
to tell her how much I love her. We discuss how
our days are going and move on into the second half of the day.

Five grueling hours later, I look at the
clock. My workday is done. It’s time to go home
and to my little girl. I call her as I walk to
the car. “I’m on my way, Hun.”

“Can you stop at the store?”

“Sure! What do we need?”

She gives me a list and finishes with, “I
love you!”

“I love you too!”

“More!” She laughs.

“You’re a poop!”

“Your point?” She laughs at me again.

The long drive and the store are behind
me. I turn the corner to our street, hit the
button on the garage door opener, and pull in.
With bags in my hands, I struggle with the door
to the stairs, get it open, and stumble in. The
light is already on. I know what it means. A
smile forms on my face. I look up. There she is,
standing at the top of the stairs, with her own
smile beaming down at me. The same beautiful,
loving smile I left eleven hours ago.

“There she is! There’s my little girl.”
The smile on my face is so big, it hurts my
cheeks.

“Hi, Baby! Welcome home!”

She waits for me at the top of the
stairs. When I reach her, she takes the bags from
my hands, sets them down, and turns to me. It’s
hug time. I open my arms. She slips into them.
The hug is better than the one we had that
morning. “Coming home” hugs are so much better than “Goodbye” hugs.

“I love you, Ginny.” I whisper in her
ear. “Do you know what you are?”

She pulls back and looks at me. “No! What?”

“You’re my lady at the top of the stairs.
After a hard day at work, I come home, see you
standing there with your loving smile, and all
the troubles of my day disappear. My lady at the
top of the stairs makes it all better. I love
you!”

“More!”

Michael T. Smith

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