Disclaimer: No one was injured in the making of this post
Retiring in my room for the night, I grab my grammar book to go over the day’s lessons. I lean back, exhausted from the amount of information and activities.
Crack.
I’m on the ground. I’m in shock. Not wanting to accept the situation, I just sit there. In the broken chair. Laying on the ground. Thoughts start racing through my mind.
That could not have just happened. What do I do now? Do I tell them? Do I pay for it? Where do I buy a chair? How am I going to explain this?
Rambling voices in the kitchen bring me back to consciousness. I scan my body to make sure there are no cuts or bruises. All clear. I jump up to properly assess the situation.
Yep. It’s broken. Leg snapped and pieces all over my room.
I quickly assemble the pieces together when I hear the Portuguese stop. I lean the chair on the side wall, all parts of the leg in the chair. I start to pace back and forth. I grab a book to look more inconspicuous.
I heard a knock on my door. “Oh great what am I going to say,” I think to myself.
“Sim” “Yes” I say.
My sister comes in with a wooden chair from the dining room. Her head is sunk as if she is taking on the burden of embarrassment.
“Tenho uma cadeira diferente. Isso tem mais força.” “I have a different chair for you. This one is stronger.” My sister says.
“Eu estou gordo hoje.” “I am a fat today” I respond to make light of the situation.
No laughter here. I take the chair from her.
“Obrigado Annita” “Thank you Annita”. She turns and closes the door.
I turn towards the broken chair sitting on the side of my room. It is still there. Great. I still have to deal with you.
I sit back down to start studying again. I am careful to sit forward and not put any weight on the back legs. However, the chair is strong. I am not going anywhere. A couple of minutes later I hear another knock on the door. “Why can’t this night just be over,” I think.
“Entra” “Enter” I call out.
It is my mae (mom). She looks like she has been having a good old laugh. She come in smiling. I am sure she immediately sees the chair.
“Dá-me a cadeira” “Give me the chair”
I try again to make light of the situation again.
“Sua comida está muinta boa. Comi muinto.” “Your food is so good. I ate too much.” I say as I go to grab the chair.
I hear a little chuckle. All is well. We laugh as I give her the chair. She takes it away never to be seen again.
A couple of days later I find a relic under my table. It sparks a great memory and inspiration for a blog post. Although my maimed chair has gone away this problem is not the first they have seen. The chair now lies in the graveyard of broken chairs in the backyard.
Thomas’ Travels 