on luck

I was out Tuesday night with a few new friends from my writing class.  We talked about what we wanted to write about and how factual fiction can be, how we all used real life to help our stories along.  I said that I would attempt something more lighthearted next* since I had gone a little heavy on my short story this time around.  I didn't meant to but then I segued into why my writing felt a little darker lately and in a few sentences I listed off the sad things from the past few years.  When I was finished one of them said she couldn't believe it, that Mike had been so unlucky.  I told her that I didn't believe in luck, especially since there was also so much good in those years.  That it was just an unfortunate series of events.

But, then again, Mike and I were walking home from dinner a few weeks ago when a black cat sat down on the sidewalk a few feet away.  We didn't say anything to each other, no nod or word between us, but we both stopped walking.  Because I'm pretty sure we were thinking the same thing, that there was no way we were letting that cat walk in front of us.

I say I don't believe in such things but that doesn't mean I'll start opening umbrellas inside or breaking mirrors just for fun.  I'll play it safe around ladders too.  And I'll still make wishes on night's first star.  Or when the clock says 11:11.  And I'll rifle through a tuft of clovers looking for a four-leafed one.  So maybe that means I do believe in it.  Just a little more than I pretend to.

from here

*yes there will be a next time.  The four of us just signed up for Advanced Fiction class which starts up in January.