A Step Toward the Basket

I pushed myself away from the ceramic cup, wondering if staying on this little wooden island forever would be silly. My knees felt a little wobbly as I smoothed down my woven ribbon sash and crept past the stack of books to the very edge of the table. Below, resting right on the floor against the nightstand leg, was a sturdy woven laundry basket lined with thick waffle-knit cotton. Its soft brim looked only a short, safe drop away, but looking down made my stomach do tiny flips. I knelt down carefully, holding tightly to the rounded wooden rim with both hands, peering over to see if I could really make the jump. It felt terribly high, yet the basket looked like a whole new cozy room waiting to be explored.