The translucent curtain of rain draped across the sky until it dropped onto the earth like a spilled box of pins and needles. Sloshing through pools of red mud and water, my tennis shoes unlaced, and I fell socks-first into a puddle. I hastily gathered the muddied shoes into my arms and sprinted down the moonlit streets, the villagers and I seeking shelter as dogs howled behind us.
We tumbled our way into the bedroom and crowded against each other on the creaking beds. “¡Encienda la tv!” Marciano called, as someone switched on the tiny black box so we could watch Paraguay play Uruguay in the semi-finals of Copa de Latin America. I looked around the room at the people: an old man chattering his teeth in his Paraguay jersey and flip flops, a little boy holding a tin pot over his head pit-pattering with droplets, and a woman breast-feeding her newborn baby. A group of people I had never met were now sharing a cup of tea with me and keeping each other warm from the rain.
Suddenly, everything shut off: the TV and all the lights in the entire house, the entire town. We sat in the silence of the pitch-black room, the only sound, the crisp inhales and moist exhales of our bodies. Thirty seconds later all the lights turned back on, illuminating Jackie, the puppy, taking a gigantic poop right in the middle of the floor.
In that instant I thought back to my family in America. I imagined my black Labrador, defecating on our brand new carpet while we had guests over. I cringed thinking about the chaos that would result from such an act, my mom angry and embarrassed, my siblings and I blaming whoever let the dog in, and my dad rushing to clean up the turd. I sat there on the bed with all those people, anticipating a situation all too awkward yet familiar.
Something else happened instead and is the reason why Jackie’s dump keeps resurfacing in my mind long after I have returned home. Instead of bedlam, I saw my host mother and host sister look at each other briefly, their eyes squint, knees buckle, and grab hold of each other as their bodies smacked against the wall piercing the silence with laughter. It was laughter so deafening, animated, and joyful it was beautiful, so infectious that rest of the room burst into tears howling.
Back home I have encountered many more “crappy” situations, ones that previously would have induced stress or anxiety or anger. However, the memory of Jackie and the laughter of the Paraguayan people allow me to evaluate situations for what they really are and choose to react positively. Their reaction to Jackie’s simple inconvenience and their forgiving attitudes have inspired me to be forgiving as well. Who would have known that a puppie poo could have showed me that an opportunity for something good presents itself in every situation.
