I was frustrated. Annoyed. Verging on 'boo hoo for me'. And all it took was a bit of snow. Maybe a couple inches fell, and though that's not a lot for others, for me in a manual chair with tires that have no tread, it might as well be an avalanche. But we've decided that we'll go somewhere for an hour or so every day after the lecture is done. We don't want to spend our whole time in the hotel room just because it's been cold. As a result we've worked our microwave into a sweat every evening as we conjure ideas for meals that we can make. So far we've had a really good lasagna, a meatball parmigiana sub, chicken cutlets with mushroom risotto. Other than the lasagna which came as is frozen, the others had to be made from combining and mixing and creating. So after work we go shopping for food and that kills time.
A couple days ago, we decided to go for a cup of tea over at the mall. The have a David's Tea there that serves a mean cup of jasmine tea. Across from David's Tea is a Second Cup which sells coffee and tea as a sideline. We got our teas and sat down to enjoy them. I was still a bit frayed from my upset about getting into the place. There wasn't much snow but it made it very difficult. I slipped and slided, my gloves got wet and cold, just in a few feet. I almost asked Joe to head back to the hotel. Joe is determined that we won't give in to a bit of winter. We are Canadians! he says with a conviction that all but bore arms.
So we are having a cup of tea and I noticed a woman with a walker heading over towards Second Cup. She walked slowly. really, really, slowly. In a cartoon, you would see plants sprout out in her footsteps and grow from seedling to full maturity in between the first and the third steps. You could see the goal in her eyes and the desire for a cup of coffee in her determination. We were almost finished our tea when she came out of the shop with the cup resting in a holder on the walker. She came to a table behind us. She smiled at me, a fellow mobility devise user, with a voice softer than peace, she said, 'No one knows but I'll let you in on the secret.' Here she looked down at the cup of coffee in her walker, then looked up at the journey yet to go. 'I invented iced coffee.'
She exploded into laughter, covering her face with her hand did not hid the joyful tears as they fell. We too both laughed, loudly with her, she'd taken us both by surprise. Her amazing good humour about the speed at which she walked and the likelihood that she'd never have a cup of hot coffee in a mall. As she slowly walked past she said, 'It starts our being annoying and ends up being funny, it's it grand how it works.'
I looked down at my wet gloves, and said, 'I'm glad to know that it works that way.'
She was almost passed and she said, 'Oh, I make it work that way - sometimes humour needs a nudge.'
Looks like there are times in my life that, maybe, I need to nudge my humour back into action. I do take things to seriously, I do need to find the lighter side, I do need to remember that of all the things that I knew disabled people have accomplished, 'iced coffee' was one of them.