I was 11 years old. She was my Nano’s close friend.
The task set before me, though seemingly simple, was one the first of its kind I was entrusted to. I had been asked to bring the lemonade from the kitchen to the lounge, and to serve the guest.
Having successfully lifted the tray and advanced forward, I teetered into the lounge. The two ladies sat chatting, on the sofa before me. Smiling wide smiles and salaming salam’s, I continued forward. Little did I know, my feet had chosen that very moment for a collision.
WHOOP! CRASH! SPLASH!
My eyes tightly closed, I didn’t trust myself to breath for a few second. Slowly rising up from the ground, I took in the spectacle before me.
A confounded lemonade sodden aunty, mouth agape, my grandmother with her lip bitten and an overturned (thankfully not broken) jug and glasses.
Needless to say, I was excused from kitchen duties for the near future.