Superstition
Because I am inordinately superstitious, this day fills me with trepidation. But at the same time I anticipate it with a giggly, feverish exhilaration. This Friday the Thirteenth will be like no other.
It will be the first Friday the Thirteenth in eleven years in which I shall be without a man in my life.
That realization came crashing through my senses a couple of days ago, from out of the blue, jolting me from my office paperwork, and I sat bolt upright in my chair. I frantically tried to remember how I dealt with the last Friday the Thirteenth that I had to spend alone, and could not remember anything recent. I was always with a man, and judging from my fear of days such as this, I’m sure they all bent backwards to appease me, keep me from feeling anxious and jittery and hyper-observant of all other superstitious details that would bring bad luck to our already unlucky day: a black cat crossing our path and I would completely change or dinner plans; two people saying the same word at the same time and not knocking on wood right after would cause me to panic; and a myriad of other little un-connected things that I would obsess and fixate over until dreadful, dreadful Friday the Thirteenth was over. My, the things I made my men go through, and the things they endured for me!
But they are no longer here. I am alone, vulnerable to all the cruel vagaries of this upcoming dark day. Some higher power must be telling me something. Last night I rolled my eyes at the heavens (or, more accurately, the ceiling), and said a little prayer before I went to sleep.
And then, right before dawn today, I woke up to a text message that said, “Good morning, beautiful.” It’s from someone I know and he loves me. How could I not jump out of bed happily after that, Friday the Thirteenth all forgotten, superstitions all forgotten, recent heartbreak all forgotten? Like a squeaky schoolgirl I smiled at the heavens (or, more accurately, the ceiling) and said a little prayer before starting my day.
It’s amazing how a simple, short sentence can make the difference in our day. Because all words come from somewhere, and from where his words came, I know it beats for me. His words gave me strength to brave the day today.
Superstition is just one of the many ways of dealing with a natural human fear of the unknown, and I can always choose another way. I’m still a little afraid, but in a good way. It's okay not to know what will happen in the future. All life is risk. All love is risk. I sally on. Love, here we go.
[Image credits: 1, 2]
It will be the first Friday the Thirteenth in eleven years in which I shall be without a man in my life.
That realization came crashing through my senses a couple of days ago, from out of the blue, jolting me from my office paperwork, and I sat bolt upright in my chair. I frantically tried to remember how I dealt with the last Friday the Thirteenth that I had to spend alone, and could not remember anything recent. I was always with a man, and judging from my fear of days such as this, I’m sure they all bent backwards to appease me, keep me from feeling anxious and jittery and hyper-observant of all other superstitious details that would bring bad luck to our already unlucky day: a black cat crossing our path and I would completely change or dinner plans; two people saying the same word at the same time and not knocking on wood right after would cause me to panic; and a myriad of other little un-connected things that I would obsess and fixate over until dreadful, dreadful Friday the Thirteenth was over. My, the things I made my men go through, and the things they endured for me!
But they are no longer here. I am alone, vulnerable to all the cruel vagaries of this upcoming dark day. Some higher power must be telling me something. Last night I rolled my eyes at the heavens (or, more accurately, the ceiling), and said a little prayer before I went to sleep.
And then, right before dawn today, I woke up to a text message that said, “Good morning, beautiful.” It’s from someone I know and he loves me. How could I not jump out of bed happily after that, Friday the Thirteenth all forgotten, superstitions all forgotten, recent heartbreak all forgotten? Like a squeaky schoolgirl I smiled at the heavens (or, more accurately, the ceiling) and said a little prayer before starting my day.
It’s amazing how a simple, short sentence can make the difference in our day. Because all words come from somewhere, and from where his words came, I know it beats for me. His words gave me strength to brave the day today.
Superstition is just one of the many ways of dealing with a natural human fear of the unknown, and I can always choose another way. I’m still a little afraid, but in a good way. It's okay not to know what will happen in the future. All life is risk. All love is risk. I sally on. Love, here we go.
[Image credits: 1, 2]
posted by Maryanne Moll | 7:34 AM
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