A Visit with Courage

I rolled out of bed late -quite late, by my standards. I galumphed quietly down the stairs, mentally making a list of everything that usually did in the morning - and those things I wouldn't be doing to make my timing to get out the door. Getting to the bottom, I clubhauled around the bottom banister (nearly losing my feet in my socks) and scooted into the family room.

There, sitting on the couch with the light on, was Courage. He'd even gone so far as to make coffee and have a cup ready for me.

I love this man.

He slapped the couch next to him. "Sit down lad, sit down. It's been a while since we've talked." He handed me the cup of coffee, which I gratefully took and sipped. Wow - it was even fresh.

I took another gulp and then lowered the cup. "I haven't seen you in a while" I said, starring down into the steam rising from my cup.

"I've had a bit of a vacation - longer than intended, really" he replied, re-settling the folds of his kilt. "Sort of my fault you know - one gets involved and volunteers, and the next thing you know you're serving far afield. But partially your fault as well." He sipped his cup again.

I started, half choking on my coffee. "My fault?" I questioned. "Why, I've needed nothing but you for months now. I have needed to be able to stand up -for myself, to others, for the things I want to do in life. I needed you! How is this somehow my fault?"

He raised his eyebrows back at me. "Partially your fault dear boy, partially your fault. No need to get upset over it. Calm yourself." He took another sip of coffee, then stared down into the cup. "But you know that courage is something you have to do, to look for, to find - not something that you just sit around for, waiting for it to appear next to you drinking coffee one morning."

He sipped again. "I can be here, I can be ready to go - but unless you choose to lead, I will not follow. Nothing personal old man. It's the way things work. Not really different than those rascals Fear and Failure, or that vixen Passion - you don't really have anything to do with them either until you make the decision to lead them, usually into your life. For example, if you treated Fear the way you've treated me lately - you know, kept him at arm's length, didn't send an invite, no afternoon High Teas, that sort of thing -how likely do you think it is that you would be afraid so much?"

My sigh and the hang of my head told him everything he needed to know.

He patted shoulder firmly. "Buck up my lad. That's all in the past now. We don't have to live in our mistakes, we just have to learn from them. I'm back now. That's what's important."

He got up off the couch, readjust his folds and his belt once again. "Tell you what my boy: You're running a bit late. Why don't you go ahead and get ready and I'll just stay here for a few minutes, then we can get in the car and commute together. I've got a bit of Facebook to catch up on."

I almost choked for the second time that morning. "Facebook? You're on Facebook?"

"Of course dear fellow. Got to keep up with times. Besides, I have a date with Passion tonight. Need to finalize arrangements. You don't know of a good pub, do you?"

"You? Passion? You just said she was a vixen?"

He gave me wry smile. "She is my lad, she is. But just because she is doesn't mean I shouldn't date her." He laughed to himself, turned around, and sat down to the computer.

As I started back out the kitchen door, refilled coffee in hand, all I could hear was the clickety-clack of the keyboard and Courage humming "Men of Harlech" as he idly twisted his mustache, waiting for the computer to load. As I got out of earshot the last thing I heard was "A new profile picture for you? Splendid Passion, splendid."