“Sir! Sir! The stairs are closed.”
Those little girls were right. The sign on the pole in the middle of the stairs said, “Stairs are closed.”
And I was clearly climbing them.
I smiled at the pair. “Don’t worry,” I said, “I own the stairs.”
Their eyes grew big in a way that told me they were exactly 5 years old.
If these kids had been allowed to see all the treasures that were hidden in the mysterious room at the top of the stairs, they would forever tell the story of the day a crazy old man took them to the top of forbidden stairs and showed them a room full of wonders.
And then I remembered that grandfathers can no longer ask little girls if they would like to see something special.
So I walked up the stairs.
And sat down alone.
And was sad.