Our father was career Navy and he had a very sea intensive rate. Toward the end of his career he was able to secure a billet opening as a recruiter. It was during this period that our parents felt like it was time to relocate and permanently move to this new location. They thought it would a good place to raise children. A search for a house was undertaken and they chose the home where our roots were planted and we were raised. I was too young to appreciate it at the time but I have the suspicion that it might have been considered a fixer-upper. We settled in and shortly found expansion was needed. Our youngest brother made his entrance and our grandfather came to live with us. Thus began the constant renovation and repair that kept our father busy.

One major transformation that took place was the expansion and enclosure of the upstairs back porch. My father fashioned it into a dorm-like room for my three brothers. I, being the only girl, had the benefit of having my own room. The walls were covered with a juvenile print that remained in place much too long. My room also held the entrance to the attic. The door hid the enclosed steps and created a bit of an alcove. At one point my desk took up residence in that opening. Although my father had spent time picking up this unfinished piece of furniture, covering the top with laminate and staining the remainder, it wasn’t used all that often. I preferred to do my homework sitting on my bed. For years I had no desire to be close to that door.

The house is just over a hundred years old now but it always seemed older. The access to the attic didn’t allow for use beyond storage. As you would walk up the steps you would need to lean in and hunch over to reach the actual floor space. There was such a steep pitch to the roof line at that point that no one with any height could traverse it without earning a severe bump to the head. The chimney rose up through the middle and boxes of seasonal decorations and other items took up space on the wooden floor. A bare light bulb, hanging from above, was needed if you went up after dark but it was much more comfortable to go up during the day and make use of the natural light the windows provided. There was another reason I chose not to go up into the attic at night, one that I presumed would keep me safe. I learned something treacherous would be found behind the door at night.

My one brother spun a tale, so believable, that I had no doubt it was true: a hunchback lived in our attic. By the nature of his being, this creature was both cunning and devious. His focus, as I understood, would be to continue to live in our home without detection. As much as I might protest his existence, my brother had a convincing reply to every one of my utterances. I never saw any sign of him in the attic space. I was told that he vacates the space during the day. He would climb out my window and onto the roof that covered the front porch. He would grasp for a branch from the maple tree which would allow him to climb down the rest of the way. He would have returned by nightfall, when he would slip down the steps and into my bedroom while I slept. I found it unsettling to hear how he would stand over my bed and drool. My brother thought it was incredible that I wasn’t aware of the residue on my sheets and blankets. Surprisingly, there was no validity to this story. I smile now to think about how gullible I was and how creative my brother was to provide such a convincing tale. It makes for a terrific story now, often told with a great amount of laughter. The hunchback, that I dreaded all those years, has now taken up residency in the crawl space under my house. I have no doubt it is true as I was informed of this development, again, by my brother.

These days my brother shares other bits of wisdom with me. It is he who has told me that worry is paying for a debt that seldom comes due. I think fear might work the same way. For years I feared the hunchback, when in reality he was only a figment of imagination. There was no danger in opening the attic door at night. I might not have missed any opportunities by not going into the attic after dark but there have been times in life that I felt apprehension about what was on the other side of the door. Life isn’t as frivolous as a game show that has you make a choice between doors number one, two or three. Often it does nudge you forward through a figurative door and into new territory. Fear, a natural emotion, can become a hindrance. I am not proposing that one moves forward without thought or by taking dangerous risks but don’t let the weight of fear rob you of new possibilities and growth. It takes courage to open the door and perseverance to walk through it. Don’t be frightened if that door appears to slam behind you. Let the gust it creates boost your forward movement and continue to carry you onward with additional support.