September 19, 2007
Gliding Down the Steps
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Jen Howard, Barre, Massachusetts, December 1982
My father passed away when I was three years old. My Mom got remarried when
I was six years old, and we moved into my new step dad's house in the
country on Powdermill Pond. I had nightmares from the day we moved in and
never felt comfortable there.
The house was built on the foundation of an old gunpowder mill which had two
explosions, killing a total of twenty people. After the second tragedy the
place was rebuilt as a duplex, maybe around 1900.
The long staircase that led to the second floor was usually at the heart of
my nightmares: being chased up or down the stairs by ghosts was a very
common theme in my dreams.
One night when I was twelve years old, my mom and I were throwing laundry
over the railing onto the landing near the top of the stairs to bring it
down to the washer.
I picked up a pile of laundry and started down the stairs. The first step I
took, I stepped on a small knitted blanket and for a brief second I thought
I was in serious trouble because there were fourteen steps and it was a
long, steep drop to the first floor. Before I really had a chance to panic,
I just had a strange sensation of being lifted slightly and I glided down
the stairs landing safely at the bottom on my feet. I turned around to see
if my Mom saw what just happened, and she was looking down over the railing
with a look of disbelief and horror on her face. I know this was a
supernatural experience because there is no way I could have done that
without feeling the impact of each step I hit on the way down. I was
literally gliding down the stairs in one smooth motion, as if being carried.
I always had a feeling that my father was looking out for me from the other
side as a child, was this him saving me from a fall?
