I learnt most of the things I know while sitting down on an old seat. One of those seats you tend to throw away when you find one in an house you have just inherited.

The seat was lined with an old ochre material embroidered with golden motifs. In fact, only a trace of these motifs was left because the seat was so old and used that you had to be a connoisseur to make out that there was something there.

Anyway, it was neither well-designed nor nice. It was a very simple upholstered piece of furniture, and you had to put an extra cushion on it to be comfortable. In winter, it wasn’t a warm seat. But in summer you could easily get scabies from just using it.

I still remember those hot August afternoons, when we had to cover the seat with a beach towel to avoid getting stuck to the material.

Don’t ask me why, but now I’ve suddenly remembered it. It may be because of the time. I used to sit down on that seat at the same moment each day. The sun used to have the same colour as it does now coming in through the window.

But this seat wasn’t the only one, as there were two twin seats in that room. I used to sit on the seat closer to the door, because I was very often late. Ironically, sometimes an perfectly ordinary seat like the one I’m talking about, a piece of furniture which is not outstanding at all, plays a leading role in somebody’s life.

Just two seats and a very humble room. Long afternoons to talk quietly. Time to look at the other person and many hours to listen to the beautiful words fading away in the air. Time to spend hand in hand. Time to kiss the other’s well-known face, to smile while you feel you’re learning how much you love that person, as it dawns on you how wonderful and complex life can be. As time goes by.

Those were afternoons in which there was always a surprise round the corner. Happy afternoons to laugh with light-hearted conversations. Time to cry together as you remember your life. When nothing seems to happen and years later you realize many important things were happening. Eternal afternoons turning into evenings, as you have felt such intense feelings that an unexpected darkness has fallen over you while you were caught by those eyes.

Those deep eyes. Happy, sad, tired eyes. Tired of seeing too much. Births, deaths, wars, joy, sadness, desperation, little misfortunes that destiny placed in the way.

But I remember those eyes were always restless, always sharp. Sometimes looking nowhere, perhaps looking for other special people that were no longer able to sit down on the same seat I was occupying.

Face to face. Just two humble seats. In that room I understood who I am, and what I have to feel proud about. I learnt where I have to go. I learnt how intensely you could love somebody. That person started as part of my family, just a relative. Now I know I had I very good friend.

Perhaps one day I’ll tell you about it. The way she used to understand life. The way she loved me. I miss her so, so much. I know one day I’ll show you her photos.

My grandmother. La iaia Elòdia.

Acknowledgements:

I’d like to thank Sean Murphy from the UOC for reviewing this text when it was just a draft. He made some nice appointments. Thanks Sean