The Red Plastic Chair

The Red Plastic Chair

It may be that after a significant traumatic event in our lives, we carry on - kind of unsure how we are doing day by day, step by step. We manage - and sometimes we look like we are doing just fine. And other times we notice that the can opener has been placed in the refrigerator. Or a name or word is forgotten. Or that we feel very vulnerable - close to tears for no apparent reason. I believe these are subtle effects of trauma, even PTSD.

On October 5, the entire country of Costa Rica was hit by its worst disaster in remembered history - Tropical Storm Nate. It sneaked in with heavy, non-stop rain for several days along with some wind. But the real calamity was that its heavy rainfall fell onto earth completely saturated from an almost twice normal rainfall for September. The earth just could not receive another drop. And so the countless drops that fell on the tops of this mountainous land ran down to join others, gathering momentum and might as they changed from rivulets and streams to become

courtesy of The Costa Rica Star

rivers, joining other rivers on their mad rush to the sea. Wherever the water couldn't be contained, there was massive flooding taking trees, livestock, homes, villages, bridges and anything else in its way. Suddenly there were landslides marking the slopes leaving major roads and highways blocked with mounds of liquified clay soil.  A distant photo of Costa Rica's crown jewel of biodiversity, Monteverde looked like the mountain was crying.  

That morning I lost the main part of my front yard along with the retaining wall that failed and all the grass and bougainvilleas and much loved trees. My damage was slight compared to so many others. But the horrific sounds and mounds of mangled steel, concrete and suddenly massacred life tore into my heart and lodged in my mind. For the next countless days and nights I would suffer some sort of PTSD, along with so many others - both Ticos and Gringos. 
 
The country is busy repairing, digging out, rebuilding bridges and roads and electric lines as this country does. With the help of Billy, my Tico neighbor and 'like a son', we cleared my neighbors' access drive below and have made plans for the new gavione retaining wall that will be built when the dry season begins - mid December.

This morning I stepped out to my front porch to enjoy the sunshine and noticed the red plastic chair I had placed the night before. I thought how strange that it looked so good in the morning light.  Back inside I scrolled through all the photos I had taken since the event - curious about where the chair had been throughout the past 24 days..before and after the landslide.

I wondered if the chair was a metaphor for me. 

On the morning of the crash the red plastic chair had been sitting near the edge, next to the bougainvilleas. It had been carried down to find its spot, resting on its back, halfway down the slope. The small red plastic stool was nearby.

Too dangerous to retrieve, I mostly pushed it out of my mind. It was, after all just an old, red plastic chair. 

After the access road below was cleared for my neighbors, Billy brought rolls of black plastic to place over the slope to protect it from further rain; further sliding.   One of the neighbors climbed up to hand the chair up to me. I thanked him and set it aside. After hosing the accumulated mud off its surface, I set it aside on a small patch of grass.

It appeared to silently watch from that place.

On the sidelines.

Billy tied the upper corners of the plastic sheeting to some anchors to hold it in place. It held for a week or so until one of the ties broke. 

Without thinking, I used the red plastic chair as a prop to hold up the edge and insure the continued rain run off.

The red plastic chair had become useful to the project. 

Though I felt relatively sure that the plastic would hold and protect the slope, I didn't feel good sitting out on my rocking chair front porch anymore. I had lost my privacy.  My well meaning neighbors  waved and shouted up to me as they passed below. They had an unencumbered view up to my porch and even into my house. 

About that time, my friend Jill came to visit and made a wonderful suggestion. What about hanging a low 'wall' of shade cloth across the yard? It would shield my view of the remaining wreckage below and the jagged edge of the broken yard. More importantly, it would provide privacy for me and my dogs. 

The following day Billy and I designed and he put the new privacy 'wall' in place while I directed from my rocking chair according to the view I wanted.  I had to be able to clearly view the twin steeples of the San Isidro church in the center plaza downtown.

The red plastic chair was again set aside. But that evening, just before the sun went down, I placed it in the corner of the yard next to the red leaves and infinity deck. And that is where I found it in the morning - with lovely sunshine and dancing shadows.  

It felt almost alive!