Enchanted by the summer scenery out of the rear window, I am reminded of the last time we were at the chalet. It was some time ago, but the bruise remains. It only took a crushing of a banana crate to dismantle my day’s work of creating Emmet, my yellow-skinned LEGO man.

But with check-out only an hour away, there was no time for consolation. So when the gashes of bereavement had ostensibly healed, I embarked on the expedition in the comfort of my parents’ crate.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by my aunt and her husband. I only had a passing acquaintance with this “uncle”, but his colossal presence was unforgettable. With Herculean arms, he raised and seated me on his neck. It was a fine feeling indeed to be up there like that, with the scent of summer and an airy zephyr around my elfin face, kindling me somehow to feel uplifted about the whole enterprise awaiting me over these coming days.

We then paced slowly to the chamber, where I could take my overdue siesta. But foreign beds have seldom agreed with me, and so after a spell of dismayed slumber, I awoke in less than an hour.

When the doorbell rang thrice in a row, I jolted out of my bed and started to draw up all kinds of alarmist theories to the cause. It turned out to be my impatient cousins. “Not them again,” I told myself with a sigh. Expectedly, they huddled around me and battled amongst themselves to toy with my person. Resolved not to waste further time on this childish affair, I contemplated departure via the bay windows, wishing that I had the legs to do so.

It was then, gazing up at them, I subvocally said: “What am I bid?”