Historic Steps to Enlightenment

Laughter does not have to come from a major source. It could be ... relatively minor.

I was excited to immerse myself in history during a retreat with Iowa writers. Our accommodations were in a historic hotel by the Des Moines River, where I stayed in room number three, located at the top of twenty-one steps. Usually, the number of steps up the ornately trimmed staircase wouldn’t be a concern; however, at my age, I wanted to be mindful of each one for fear of falling to the bottom during an unexpected senior moment.

Twenty-one steps to the second floor of this historic hotel.

Standing before the door to my assigned room, I inserted the key and stepped back into history. The furnishings, reminiscent of a bygone era, caught my attention as I placed my luggage beside an authentic dresser. After settling in, I went back down the twenty-one steps to enjoy some adult beverages with my fellow writers.

Later that night, I returned to my room and looked for outlets to charge my sleep machine. I was disappointed to find that the only available outlet, hidden behind the headboard, was already occupied by the lamp on the bedside table. This frustrating situation reminded me that technology can sometimes be present and absent.

Thankfully, I discovered two outlets in the remodeled bathroom by the sink. I plugged in my laptops in preparation for Saturday’s meeting, but I had to be careful not to spill water on them—just one mishap could lead to a potentially shocking consequence.

As I prepared to crawl into bed, I quickly realized that my plans for a restful night might be ambitious. The classic bed, with its decorative white iron headboard, was taller than I had expected. When I attempted to get in by lifting one leg and leaning onto the mattress, it felt like scaling Mt. Everest without the proper gear. I even considered taking a running leap from the end of the room, though I knew that wasn’t the wisest idea.

Determined, I finally settled onto the pillows, hoping for a restful night. Just as I began to drift off, I noticed a bright beam of light flooding the room, more intense than a thousand candles. The light from the second-floor hallway shone through the window above the historical door. At that moment, I certainly wasn’t inclined to get out of bed to ask someone to turn it off. As I lay there, squinting in the unexpected spotlight, I thought, “Well, at least I’m one step closer to enlightenment.”

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