Baby Steps

I'm sitting at the Water Shed in Langley, one of my favourite coffee shops. They make the wickedest Americanos; the espresso is dense, practically beckoning to me in Italian prose while the crema on top swirls me in and dunks me under its healing waters. It's decaf of course but even its decaffeination loses not its potency.

Six-books-deep into my must-read pile, I decided to use my morning off to make a dent in the stack. However, my brain had other plans. What should I bring to work for lunch? I have to go pee. The baby kicked! Then this lady teetered into the coffee shop in a pair of high heels, reminding me that I need to practice wearing mine for next Friday, when I marry my love.

Several weeks ago I bought a fabulous dress. I was pleased to find something to wear in advance so as to have one less thing to worry about, until I tried it on again a couple of nights ago and now I most definitely have something to worry about. I'm trying to work with the new developments, but they seem to have a mind of their own. At this point, I'll be lucky to even see my shoes.

A couple of years ago I had to dress up to go to an awards ceremony with Andrew. I nailed down a dress but hadn't worn heels since my dear friend Renata's wedding in 2004. Jane came over with a bottle of wine and several pairs of shoes. I put on my dress and, attempting to showcase the first set of heels, I stepped gingerly down the stairs, wine glass in hand, to show Jane. I had only taken one step when my heel slipped and to catch my balance, I threw my hand against the wall only to realize it was the hand that held the wine glass. I smashed the glass into a million pieces, sprayed red wine all over the walls, railing, stairs, my dress and legs, and proceeded to tumble head-over-high-heels down the entire length of stairs.

We can alter what we look like on the outside to make everyone believe we're something that we're not but as soon as we start to move about and live our lives, we showcase the truth of who we are. We all get judged from the outside looking in, but if those people lived and walked with us, they'd know something very different.

Shouting our truths from the treetops will only make us look like assholes but quietly living them out, day by humble day, will grow our truths to the point that who we really are will be obvious to everyone around us. Even if we look down and can't see our own shoes.