Ladders: Like Mother, Like Daughter

I'm talking about me, and my Mom in this post, not me and Miss Laura.

I remember my senior year of college living off campus in the top half of an older duplex on State Street in Ithaca, NY with four roommates. Wooden clapboard exterior, a front porch, and hardwood floors that creaked made the house our home for the year. My bedroom had a single window facing the side street of the corner lot, lots of grass and about a twenty foot drop to the ground. Ground? Who cared? My Mom cared.

Shortly after I moved in, a package arrived in the mail from some mail order place, courtesy of my Mom. Inside was a rope ladder complete with a way to latch said ladder onto a windowsill. She was thinking of the picture shown here; a fire and no way to get out except to jump from the second floor window. That would never do. She considered a ladder a necessary piece of survival equipment to store under the bed "just in case". I remember feeling a bit embarrassed about this package; a rope ladder? C'mon. Why not a real care package with good eats or clothes? My roommates thought it odd as well and we laughed (sort of) about my Mom and her worries. Fire never crossed my mind. I don't think I gave it a second thought the entire time I lived in that house. The rope ladder, never removed from its plastic wrapping, stayed in its box in my closet. When I moved out, I took the ladder with me. Eventually I gifted it back to Mom since she was living in a townhouse with a second floor and I was in a single level small house, newly married. I wonder what ever happened to that little investment in safety; probably got put in the garage sale when they left Houston to move to Seattle.

So here I am, mother to a daughter in college, one who's just moved into a rather run-down pensione in Florence for her academic year abroad. I haven't found out what floor she's on, if there is more than one exit, or (God forbid) only an ancient, creaky elevator between floors (surely not). My imagination is ripe, a trait inherited from the master. In the meantime, I'm remembering that rope ladder I owned once upon a time and thinking it might be a good idea if L had one too, tucked under her bed "just in case". I imagine she'd just roll her eyes and anoint me with the label "overly concerned, meddling, and off the deep end" Mother. OK, I accept that but on the other hand, what's the Scout's Motto? Sii preparato!