1 bed or 2

The other day at Semillas, our after school program, two little boys came running up to me. They had just caught word that we were, in fact, the gringos who lived in the big house at the end of the street. They had come to me to confer if this was true. Upon telling them that yes, I do live there with six other friends, their second question caused me to pause in my tracks. ¨Do you have one bed or two?¨ My heart froze for a little bit, like when you are walking outside and hear thunder and you try to believe for a second that it is not really going to rain. The first image that flashed across my mind was our guest room, two spare beds. Next my mind went to the office, huge double bed that is used perphaps a couple times a year. Quick count; four unused beds. And then my mind ran through all the houses I have passed that contain entire families and one mere matress for them all. No one had ever put my wealth and privelge in such simple or glaring light. How could I tell a boy, eyes full of question, that we have 10 beds in a house of 7 people?

I looked at him and the word ¨two¨ popped out of my mouth. He looked happy, like that was the answer he expected. He turned to his brother and they giggled a little bit, excited for my community that we had more than 1 bed, not realizing at all the confusion that his question would leave me swimming in for days. Afterwards the two brothers ran off to tell their friends what they had learned, murmured exchanges amongst the group, while I sat, trying to understand once again why I am here.

The answer was silent. nothing.