Solidifying his courage and bravery status, in my young opinion.
picture found on google search by blogs.inlandsocal.com
A bat had managed to creep down our old, no longer used chimney, and find its way through the old stove pipe until it was able to drape it's gross rubbery wing, none to gracefully over the corner of the brass plate camouflaging the marred wall.
I was a little girl playing baby doll's on the front room couch, minding my own business, when I looked up and saw the ginormous mouse with wings, I could see it's beady little eye's plotting the aerial attack on me, struggling over the lip of the plate to fly freely around and scare the begeebers outta me!!!
Being the dainty little flower I was, I screamed at the top of my lungs and ran from the room with my baby doll covering my noggin.
Mom came to see what all the hub-bub was about and upon seeing the serenity destroying critter flapping back and forth across the room, darted to arouse the sleeping hero above floors...my big brother.
I remember him ambling sleepily down the stairs, fresh out of bed, looking around and asking what the noise was all about...He didn't see anything...until the vile creature dislodged itself from its resting spot on a curtain, to swoop and buzz him.
Walking calmly from the room, whilst I was doing the brave thing of hiding behind my mom's skirt and peeking out to scream at what, I thought, was appropriate times, he returned shortly with a glove on?!
Not two, ONE.
What the heck good would that do?!
He calmly walked over to the curtain where the thing thought it had hidden, reached up and grabbed it, quick as you please.
With it held firmly in the palm of his gloved hand, he walked calmly out the front door, with me tagging along at his heel's every step of the way, and released it with a gentle toss toward the rising sun...
He turned and said, "It was just lost, and afraid, now it will find it's mommy and not come back". And went back to bed for a while.
He was so brave and unruffled!
Now, year's later it is not a tiny lost bat, that is once again allowing me to see his strength, composure and compassion, but instead, Percival, the stage 3-4 glioblastoma, that has chosen to live in his brain.
And as he said: "We can't choose the stuff that happens to us, but we can choose how to react to it".
Once again solidifying his courage and bravery status in my not so young perspective.
Smile and remember;
We're fool's whether we dance or not. So we might as well dance.