Upstairs

The house on the hill had a second story, "up stairs" we kids called it. One of my first memories of life on the hill had to do with upstairs. Just barely three, I remember climbing up and down, up and down the stairs. The stair way ran up one side of the dining room on the outside wall. At the foot of the stairs was a wonderful big window looking out into the side yard.

Upstairs was a mysterious place authenticated by the admonition of a fun loving brother who told me that a ghost lived up there. He had proof of it, the ghost had written his name on the wall. And there it was, "Casper", in large sloppy letters painted at an angle across roughly sawn boards at the top of the stairs. Not only had Casper left his signature, but we were convinced he lived in the crawl space above the kitchen. A wide board had been removed from that side of the large room, giving access to this slanted crawl space. But to us kids, it was just a large rectangular black hole, an opening into dark and mysterious places.

Upstairs was one big room that went from one end of the house to the other. Big uncovered windows at each end gave light to the huge room. On the front wall of upstairs was a line of small windows. The branches of the majestic elm in the front yard reached toward the windows across the roof of the front porch.

Upstairs was an enchanting place. It was filled with treasures and mystery. There was a library table, a bed piled with clothes. There were boxes of clothes and other treasures, old books and magazines, a big stack of St. Louis Post-Dispatch newspapers that Jim had brought. There was also an old hump backed trunk. Mama gave us strict instructions to stay out of there, giving it all the more mystery. Among all the boxes and junk was a small closed cardboard box. It was almost sacred. Mama said we were to leave it alone, not to open it. Somehow we knew that was one request from Mama that we could not violate.

Upstairs was the ideal place to play. It was most fun to play up there when my nieces came. Being number eleven of twelve children, these nieces were around my age. Peggy, Nancy, Patsy, Norma, and my sister Bobbie were in this consort. Peggy was the most adventurous and fearless.

The large room was big enough for each of us girls to make our own "house". The boxes of old clothes were perfect for dressing up. We all had our favorites. A long three tiered skirt and a thin soft fluffy blouse were mine.

Mama kept the mysterious black hole covered by stacking boxes of various things in front of it. But, occasionally, it was open, giving my suspicious and believing heart a quickened beat should I have to pass too closely. However nothing, especially the black hole, could scare Peggy. She was five months older than I. That was explanation enough for me of her prowess.

This particular Sunday afternoon, things were going well. We were trying to get houses set up at various places to play house. This was something of no particular interest to Peggy.

"You go ahead and set up our house." She said to me. " I will just live with you."

Not getting the gist behind it, I thought the idea was great. That gave her the freedom to ramble and explore.
Eventually, she was drawn to the black hole in the wall. Pushing a box aside, she climbed upon another, putting herself directly in front of the black hole. With her hands on either side of the hole, she poked her head way in to look around. All this time, I thought she would pull back out of that hole headless. After what seemed like five minutes, she pulled her head out of the hole.

I'll never forget those big brown eyes, widened for emphasis, looking at us. Then in a very mysterious voice she said, " I saw two big, round, (here she brought those long skinny fingers together to indicate size) white eyes in there."

The next thing heard was a stampede down the stairs. We didn't stop until we were outside, exactly where Peggy wanted to be.