Excerpt From the Cold

How I do dread the chill of the rainy season. I'd been wearing three long-sleeve layers, each getting progressively thicker, and I continued to shiver. My body wasn't used to the sudden drop in temperature, and I do not believe my cold aided in mildening my reaction. However, I was surrounded by a lack of people who reminisced in the cold, and was lucky enough to work in the sole room that closes completely. Earlier that day, Phoebe, an acquainted coworker of mine, had fallen in a puddle during the worst of the storm and had found the heater that she sat in our classroom with, drying out her pants. Even with the door wide open, you could feel the shift in temperature and attitudes among people. It was warmer and calmer. The heater sat on the smaller, more mobile, whiteboard which lay on the carpet allowing people to sit on the warmer part of the floor while simultaneously not burning a hole into the outdated rug. Due to the weatherman's prediction, no kids came to learn or color, draw or play and we sat in our room, Sophia, Phoebe, the new teacher and myself, and had a conversation, half English, mostly Nepali. It was comfortable and I'd almost felt safe, a term I've never felt the need to use. The afternoon mirrored that feeling as kids piled into the classroom, obviously bored of having nothing to do on their own during a rainy day. They began the makeshift class playing, Pasang and Chhewang struggling with puzzles and Kaghandra building a house out of Lego (Duplo! Sophia would shout, correcting me). I dragged a small plastic chair beside Kaghandra in the hopes he would, not necessarily need me for something, but want me to aid him. His left hand was wrapped in bandages once more, the physiotherapy diagnosis for third-degree burns, so he continued to struggle picking up and putting down and, especially, unstacking Lego pieces from one another. When I finally took the hint he did not need me (his consistent "no, no, no, no, no, no, no" and his growling to indicate through the language barrier he did not like my choice of putting that piece there) I began to read. Chhewang and Pasang moved on to coloring, Sophia lay beside them on the carpet, huddled in her blanket, reading as well and the new teacher worked. I felt a bit as though I should be working, too, but I had nothing to do and I knew she would kindly brush me off if I asked if there were anything I could help with. So for once I let it be. It was warm, the light was dimmed, the room was quiet (people who entered would do so brashly, then immediately hush up at the very glimpse of our little haven from the outside world). I allowed myself to succumb to the laziness because it wasn't laziness, it was indeed comfort. People were not asking me if I was okay, I was not being integrated into a conversation you could tell I did not want to have, I was not worrying anybody. I felt calm. I felt happy. It was healing in a sense, and I exited my mindset of being a burden. I exited with a layer of confidence which has stuck so far into this month. How I do hope for the chill rainy season.