Courage and Cookies

Good Morning bloggers! If you're anything like me, you have a soft spot for a little bit of Trish in your life. I met Trish not too long ago through the grape-vine of commenting on new blogs and instantly was impressed by her ability to convey warmth, friendliness and general interest in what I had to rant about in my posts.

 Post after post she has returned to me to leave well-thought out comments, (I can't stand when someone writes "Cute!" on something I've sat for hours to create) and when time hasn't allowed for that, she has personally e-mailed me to let me know how sorry she is. Hey Trish, life happens sista, it's OK!

I've come to find out that Trish and I have a love for many of the same things – Louboutins, the color pink, weddings, tall men (had to thrown that one in there) and we even have the same wedding anniversary. I am getting married September 24th of this year and that's when Trish and her hubs were married a few years back. I don't know about you but I'm positive her and I were meant to be friends!

As for me I own my little piece of cyberspace over at Hey Gorgeous. I'm an almost-24-year-old nap-loving chick with a passion for high heels, rainy days and cake. I just started an internship at a magazine downtown Toronto, and if I'm lucky, I usually find a few hours each day to pull myself away from wedding planning. No really, I am. completely. obsessed. I have really messy brown hair and a goofy smile. See?

On my train ride into the city this week I tried to think of something clever to write about for my guest blogging day. I know how special of a blogger Trish is so I felt a bit of pressure. So much pressure that nothing seemed good enough for this post, and as lovely as I envision my wedding plans to be in my own head, it surely would bore most of you into a cat-nap. Here's a picture of my wedding gown by the way (just in case there was a sliggghttt possibility you were wonderin')….



My idea finally came to me on my train ride home when a woman went into the washroom and for 35 minutes failed to come back out. Surrounded by businessmen in suits preoccupied with their Blackberries I wondered if knocking on the door would be appropriate. A student walked up to the door to use the washroom and upon finding it locked was told by the man beside me that there was woman in there who had been for quite some time.

Finally I threw my new Aldo bag to the floor, whipped off my shades and marched over to the door. I gave a light knock. And heard nothing. Then I gave a bit of a harder knock, one with a little more force. And heard nothing again. By this time a few men were peeping over the plastic train seats eager to see what kind of response I would get.

By now I am thinking that this woman is sleeping, very sick, or dead because the whole situation is a little uncanny. What if she had passed out? Or had a seizure and needed medication? Maybe she fell and hit her head and now no one could get to her. I started to think about trekking over to the next car to get an employee.

Yet then the door cracked open and standing there was a lady in her mid-50s. She had a short grayish colored bob and the palest eyes I've ever seen on a person. I remember her red shirt. But most of all I remember the sweat that was pouring down her face like she had just stepped out of the shower.

"Are you alright?," I asked.

Silence.

She gathered her things and stared right at me with those eyes. I placed my hand on her shoulder and asked one more time, slowly noticing the fixated eyes of my male travel companions wondering what would happen next.

And she walked right by me collapsing into the closest seat before resting her head – her very sweaty head – on the wall. I walked over to her and gently told her she was free to go back into the washroom if she needed.

"I was just worried about you and wanted to see if you were O.K. I don't need the washroom, I am sorry to have bothered you," I said.

Again silence.

As I walked away feeling slightly embarrassed like I had been turned down by the hottest guy in high school after asking him to prom, one of the men who had watched the entire thing said very loudly yet slowly:

"Well not sure why she isn't responding to you, but thank you for your concern and for caring enough to check on her."

This is when I realized that in life, all humiliation aside, if we don't take chances or risk the uncomfortable, then our days become these monotonous routines where each and every move is predicable and in a sense our routine becomes just that, a memorized performance. We wake up, brush our teeth, get dressed, leave the house, get to work, call the same people, eat the same lunch, take the same way home, yata yata yata.

Do you ever get home from work completely wiped not because you worked hard but because your day was just that? A day? An empty day of being rather than an fulfilling experience of living? When's the last time you took a chance, even if you were scared out of your mind, to do something a little off-kilter and unstructured?

Sure I was just a regular person on the commute home, going a bit out of my way to check on a person who may have been in distress. But in the bigger picture of things, standing up in front of all of those men, marching over to the washroom, facing that woman when she walked out when obviously something was wrong; well it took a bit of courage.

A bit of courage that can be used when I walk into my next interview, when I don't think I can run another step at the gym, when I feel like maybe I'm not pursuing the right things in life, yet have it in me to just have a little faith. Sometimes courage in the simplest forms can lead to a life lesson in bravery that you can't help but feel happy to have experienced.

I challenge you (you too Trishy!); when's the last time you took a chance and showed some courage?

Oh and see these bad boys? They're S'mores Cookies I made recently (I know, I know the typography on the photo gives it away right? Duh, Rhi). The recipe should be up by Friday afternoon on my site if you're interested. Make 'em for your Mom for mothers' day. Or even better make them for yourself. I won't judge you, promise : )

Trish I adore you : ) Thanks for letting me make myself at home here. Come back soon we miss you!