The Four Legged — ME
Kids at school; parents at work; I am lonely at home, wondering why I am in one place the entire time. Unlike a human being, I am four-legged, short, rectangular-shaped, and wooden non-living thing.
Even though I do not like how I look, I am grateful for the family I am staying with. They always make me feel unique by placing me in the middle of their gathering every night for dinner. I am the only place where the family congregates once a day.
Around 8 pm every day, mom and dad will be back from work. I can tell whether they are tired or not by just looking at how they are walking towards me. If they are tired, they lift their feet off the ground slowly, bend forward, and put their hands on their waists as they walk into the living room.
No matter how exhausted they are, they are uncooperative with their bodies in going to bed immediately. They rather want to spend time with their kids. Mom calls out, “Kids! We are here!” All the kids run towards them.
After seeing their kids fresh smiling potato faces, mom and dad become a bit energetic. They are curious to know how their kids’ day was. In the middle of their conversations, one of the hungry souls amongst the kids starts dragging me to the center where everyone can see and touch me.
After washing their hands, everyone comes around me with their food.
Looking at the kid’s facial reaction after food is served makes my day. They are either blissful or depressed about the kind of food being served. Before they start eating, either mom or dad stands up and prays for the food. It should be a short prayer, says their firstborn son. However, it seems his concern has never been heard. They pray for at most five minutes for each supper. Lengthy prayer irritates all the kids. They often end up opening their eyes and staring at the prayer while praying or not saying “Amen” at the end.
While eating, the kids have never chatted peacefully. They never express their adoration for each other. They are invariably shouting and arguing over different issues every dinner time. Yet, mom is always there to interrupt their ongoing dispute. If the kids refuse to keep quiet, she will let them know that she will leave the gathering and go to bed early. So, they usually choose to conceal their mouths.
No one is allowed to leave me until everyone finishes eating. After everyone is done eating, the sons go back to their rooms, negligently leaving their drip of stew and scarp of ‘injera’ around their dirty dishes on me. Mom and dad change their seat avoiding looking at me. In our house, it is a must that a daughter has to pick all the dirty dishes off me and set me back to my original corner.
Doing this makes her angry. She expresses her anger by forcibly pushing me until the friction between the ground and my leg makes noise, and intensely rubbing me as if she is massaging the fractured ankle.
Now, it is time to sleep. All the family members have gone to their respective rooms.
I am done with the day. I had fun. I did my job. I am also going to sleep. I do not need a bed to sleep on because I am a rectangular dinner table with four legs and with white cloth on.
