Last year my son, Ian, went on a job search after completing his Masters in Library Science. He was already employed in Nashville, TN so was able to take time to look for a good fit. Like all job searches, there were frustrations. He was hired by the University of Akron and started his new job as an assistant professor in Bibliography, Physical Sciences Librarian in July 2012. He was a good fit for physical science library since he also has a masters in chemical forensics.
In June, his family of four started planning the move to Akron so he could start work in July. The move also included selling a home in Nashville and buying a home in Akron, OH. At the time, his wife Carol was unemployed so the burden of most of the moving fell on her. By July, they were in a one bedroom apartment on a short term lease with most of their belongings in storage. The house in Nashville sold and they bought a house in Akron.
I looked at it a realized it was reminiscent of one of his childhood homes. It was beautiful and they got to move in in October.
I was finally able to visit at Thanksgiving. The four day November weekend gave me some extra time with them. The drive is so much easier than the previous drive to Nashville. Nashville was a ten hour drive and Akron was a mere three hour drive. I usually arrived in Nashville completely exhausted. Akron was a piece of cake.
It is a multi level house. Not a simple split level, the house has five levels like many houses built into hills. My room was not in the original house. The previous owners had added the room with a den underneath with another bathroom. As I was shown to my bedroom, my son informed me that every one had fallen so far except his wife Carol. So, I was warned. Let me just say that to get to my guest room I walked through the living room and up a step, then left and up five steps, left up four steps and right up four steps.
When I came downstairs, Ian showed me where he had fallen. My first day in the house, I was very careful and noticed that the tricky spot where most of the falls had taken place was where the stairs in the living room went to different levels. The living room had a step at one end leading to three different locations. That one step was a different size than the other steps. So, I was good. I was doing all the different stairs with ease within a day. I was confident I would have no problems if I just made sure I looked where I was going.
And it was all ok until Saturday when I fell . You know the moment when you realize there is no recovery and the fall is inevitable and then the landing. Ooof…
I stayed where is was…..right at the tricky spot and only had a bit of pain in my shoulder. I was hotdogging. I had tried to skip a step. I still could not believe it, I felt as if I had been thrown down the steps. Well. I just joined almost everyone else in the house.
I drove home after the weekend and the pain got worse. I found I now had tendonitis in my upper arm. I went to physical therapy and slowly got better. I finally returned to visit in late April. My granddaughter had moved into the former guest room because she said her room was too scary. She heard noises at night. For the weekend, I got the room back and my granddaughter slept in her parents room.
This time I was extra careful at the tricky spot. That is, until 4:00 a.m. one morning when I just had to go and had two bathroom choices. One choice took me past the entire family…down three steps…walk five steps….up three steps…walk four steps…up 3 steps…to the bathroom. Or, I could go downstairs and not disturb anyone.
Down three steps…turn…down four steps….turn down five steps…..turn and to the bathroom……whomp and on the floor…that last step and I forgot. This time no injuries. and I was on the floor again, I just could not understand how I got there. I intellectually reasoned that I had missed a step, of course. And again, it was a shock.
I decided jokingly that the house must have a poltergeist. She will accept you but only after you have been there a few times. The next time I go, I hope she will welcome me.
The picture below is of one of the original occupants of the home in the late 1920s. Maybe she is the one….