Boom! I hear a loud crash from the living room. “What was that?” I wonder as I turn my head to face the living room. I turn to see my brother lying on the floor whimpering, having fallen from the stairs. Again.

My family and I lived in a townhouse in a neighborhood crowded with many buildings.  I was three years old and my brother, David, had just turned two. Our home had two stories with a large living room, kitchen, dining room.

In a corner of the living room were three dreaded steps. David had just learned how to walk and, a couple days before, had tripped on the stairs and bawled for hours until he went to bed. Feeling courageous, he tried it again and cried for the second time. I never thought he would try it a third time. I, of course, had no trouble going up the stairs, so I made it my mission to help my brother overcome his one childhood obstacle.

“Come on, David. I’ll teach you how to go up the stairs,” I said after he recovered from his most recent attempt.

“I don’t want to. I want to do it myself,” David refused.

I sigh. “ What’s the use if you keep falling and crying?” I ask trying to sway his mind.

He looks at me hesitantly but reluctantly agrees and gets off the sofa. I walk hand in hand and step in step with David. I feel him slowing down with anxiety so I push him forward.
We reach the stairs and I slowly put my foot onto the first step. I go onto the first step and I notice David is still at the bottom unwilling to walk.

“It’s easy as pie!” I encourage. His eyes light up at the sound of cake and he takes the first step.

He crawls up to the first step with his short legs pumping, as I start on the next and start to feel my brother’s hand slip. I plow ahead thinking that David will keep up. On the third step, my brother’s grip falters  and his small body goes tumbling down the stairs.

I hop down the stairs as David starts bawling. “I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?” I ask but he takes no notice and I just keep standing there next to him.
“Come on, David. You’re going to be fine. Get up,” I plead. My parents can’t hear but I still don’t want to get in trouble. My brother constantly shakes his head no as tears stream down his face. After persisting for a couple of minutes, I give up and retreat to the sofa.

I lay down on the couch in disappointment. I was so sure I could help my brother walk and overcome the obstacle. I guess I was wrong. David starts to calm down and all I hear are quiet sniffles.

I walk back to him and say, “ I’m really sorry. Please don’t tell Mom or Dad.”

David keeps his head down and mumbles, “It’s fine, I guess. It was a bit fun though.” Then, he lifts his head and a smile starts to grow on a face.

“Can we do it again?”