You Asked, I Answer (Luck, Compliments, Favourite Smells)

Another week, another set of answers to your questions. These are all from one of my favourite bloggers.

And away we go...

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Christine asked:

1) What's the luckiest thing that's happened to you?

The short answer: Staying alive.

The long answer:

When I was about 11, a man that had been following me to and from school, walked up to me quickly on my way back to class after lunch one day (we used to go home for lunch), crowding me, saying things like “Help with the baby” and “We must hurry” and “The baby is sick” and on and on. As he spoke incessantly, he also corralled me in a certain direction, right toward the entrance of a multi-unit building. Next thing I knew, I was inside a triplex with this man right behind me. The door slammed shut, the world was left behind and the sudden understanding that I was in danger was so blatant, I struggled to breathe. I’ve never felt more terrified in my life. This is the darkest and most haunting moment of my childhood. Since I’m in the here and now, it turned out fine. I might not have been here if things had gone differently.

So getting out of that situation and being here to write about it today is the luckiest thing that has ever happened to me.

2) What's the best compliment you've ever received?

I had to think really hard about this one. As an introvert, compliments have never been at the forefront of my life. I’m usually in the background, quietly doing whatever I do and hardly ever getting noticed. Even as a child, I lived in the shadow of the older of my two brothers who was (and still is) so extroverted and personable that every single person who knew us, our family, sang praises about him. They still do.

So I thought and thought and thought about a very significant moment and suddenly BOOM this came to mind:

When I was a teen, I raged against the unjust rules imposed upon me by an oppressive cultural and religious upbringing that didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t just reinforced by my mother in our household, it was also supported by the entire community I lived in. So I was angry and depressed and rebellious and desperate. And suffocating. This affected my schooling. I cut classes, didn’t work as hard as I could and my grades dropped. I wasn’t a troublemaker who drew attention, so no one really bothered with me.

Except for my 10th grade English teacher.

I’d been skipping at least one of her classes a week and one day, finally fed up with me, she took me aside and gave me a stern talking to. But she didn’t just threaten trouble. She said that she was upset that someone as highly intelligent as me was wasting her life. That she was frustrated that one of her most gifted students was not reaching her full potential. “You are exceptionally bright and talented, and you have the ability to be at the top of this class” she said to me. “Don’t throw it all away.”

I sulked and rolled my eyes and resisted. But I heard. Annoyed as I was (how dare she think she knows me), her words challenged me. I’ll show her, I thought. And from that day forward I was determined to demonstrate to her – and to myself – that I wasn’t a lost cause. Like my community thought I was. I could rise to the top. And I did. My marks improved, my projects were displayed in the classroom and I rose to the top. Just like she said I would.

To answer your question, Christine, the greatest compliment I’ve ever received was from my 10th grade English teacher who not only thought I was special. She told me so. At a time when I needed to hear it most.

3) What's your favourite smell?

I always lean towards vanilla. I love that smell. Not only do I appreciate it in baking, but I also like vanilla-scented candles. So vanilla is at the top of the list. And coconut. That's good. Coffee brewing, too.

But I am also drawn to basil for this reason:

My father loved growing vegetables and he was very good at it. He’d be up early morning tending to his garden and puttering around the backyard, something he enjoyed immensely, especially after retirement. He was never much into flowers – that’s always been my mother’s domain – and didn’t bother much with herbs either. But he did favour one: Ocimum basilicum, what everyone knows as basil.

For as long as my father gardened, he grew basil. And every now and then he would lean over and sniff the lovely smell that this plant emits. I came to associate this scent with him and whenever I get a whiff of it, I feel an ache in my heart, remembering his love for it and how much I miss him.

And that’s all for now. I’ll answer another bunch of questions next week.

Happy Wednesday to all!