WWBD?

I am what is normally called an introvert.



Deep down I'm actually a little more than that. I'm extremely shy if I'm allowed to be. I'm not great at meeting new people; in fact I was downright lousy at it until the Internet came along. I'm quiet and reserved and deadly serious about most things.

I have a fascination with people who aren't like that. People who can walk into a room and instantly have a comfortable conversation with others. Those who can meet someone one minute and know everything about them the next. The ones who seem to always be upbeat and positive and can turn any casual encounter into lifelong friendships are like magicians. I have no idea how they do it, but I'd really like to find out.

When I find myself in a difficult situation, I tend to resort to "What would this person I've seen act admirably in a situation like this do?" Sometimes I come up blank. Sometimes, though it can get me thinking the right thoughts to start a conversation with a stranger, or move outside my comfort zone, or look at something from a point of view I normally wouldn't consider.

Bunni is one of those people who always sees everything on the positive side, even when the positive was difficult for the rest of us  to see. She had good words for everyone, and a view of life that extended past what could be seen with the eyes.

Several years ago, Bunni and I drove to a science fiction convention in Toronto. I remember her telling me that she'd been sitting at home, and noticed the lights flicker. She had this unmistakable feeling that her parents, who had passed away some time before, were in the room with her. She began having a conversation with them, and the lights would flicker in response to her questions. I was impressed that she told me this with a conviction that most people wouldn't have who were looking at something concrete in front of their eyes. The event brought her tremendous comfort, and she had several other stories along the same lines.  We spent much of the convention in the coffee shop discussing them.

Bunni passed away yesterday, after a year of trying to recover from cancer. I won't say she fought; fighting isn't the right word to use when thinking of Bunni. She did much to heal her body of this disease. She was positive and upbeat, even when there was a relapse. She was determined she'd get better.

I read of her passing on Facebook, while I was still lying in bed this morning. I got up, went into the bathroom, then thought that I should email a friend before I did anything else so I wouldn't forget.

As I stood there, typing Bunni's name, there was a loud crash in the shower. When I looked, the soap, usually sitting securely on the soap dish, had fallen to the floor.

The part of me that is logical thought, "Wow, that's a coincidence."

Another part, a part that remembered Bunni's story about the lights, smiled.

That was exactly something that Bunni would do.