the breakfast table

Yesterday at breakfast around the long blue table on the porch, we shared our individual nights to understand the walls we share. Oh, that was you Esther clapping in the middle of the night? asked Paloma.

Yes, because of the rat. I woke up hearing the rat gnawing at my bed post. And if he continued the bed would have fallen and he would have gnawed at me. Esther and I share a room, and I remember vaguely waking up at some point and asking how she knew it was a rat. Apparently I advised her to bang on the bed or the wall which I did as well, then sleep, deep sleep. Until the alarm that sounded at 4:45 on the other side of the wall. Luna thought it was Barbara's alarm, but Barbara couldn’t find her alarm because it wasn’t hers it was Luna’s that had shaken the house in her innocent attempt to wake up early to write the letter to the parents advising them of the doctor and dentist and dermatologist that will be coming next week. 13 letters written by hand. But after the alarm I couldn’t sleep. The orientadora of the little girls was shouting their names and their corresponding daily chores and the reggaeton was already blaring in the darkness before the sun.

Well, I killed the rat, Flori commented as she spooned up her granola and apple.

How big was it? How did you kill it?

A small one. About this big. It went behind the current and I grabbed it and squeezed.

Eeewww....ooohhh, the table erupted and the children took a break form their chores of sweeping the jungle floor to observe the foreign teachers roar with disgust and disbelief as we imagined this short stout woman squeeze life between her fingers.