There is a long-running tradition of believing in superstition in my family. For example, my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother all lived in mortal fear of El Cucuy at some point in their lives, believing heâd whisk them away in the middle of the night if they didn’t behave. For years now Iâve tried to put it behind me like that bad memory involving P.E. class and accidental flatulence. For the most part, Iâve been successful. I no longer feel itâs necessary to scotch-tape a nickel to my belly during a lunar eclipse. I donât feel like Iâm cursing a baby if I admire their cuteness and donât follow through with gently touching their head with my hand (an absolutely real belief in some circles). Black cats, ladders, the number thirteen and spilled salt mean absolutely nothing to me.
But.
Thereâs the eyelash issue. For some reason, the eyelash issue is exempt from my belief system. If I drop an eyelash, my kids rush to harvest it so they could press it between our thumbs, make a wish, pull the thumbs apart and see whose lucky thumb it stuck to. I could squeeze my eyes shut and PRETEND to make a wish in an effort to stay true to my non-superstitiousness. But I donât. I actually make a wish. I wish for all the things that mothers wish for â healthy, happy children becoming healthy, happy adults, a secure future for each of them, strong teeth well into their nineties⦠But it really makes no difference because I never get the eyelash. I NEVER get the eyelash.
Maybe itâs because my hands are too dry. Maybe itâs because I donât press hard enough. Maybe there is something intrinsically wrong with my thumbprint making them averse to small hairs affixing to them. Itâs plausible. Iâll tell you what I DONâT believe. I donât believe my wishes are so far-fetched that a higher power is refusing to give me the stupid eyelash.
Well. I didnât until this past week. I had more than my fair share of eyelashes fall. I didnât keep count, but if I had to guess, Iâd say there was somewhere in the neighborhood of TEN. Enough to make me go, âHmm⦠could this be the beginnings of alopecia?â?
With each eyelash that fell, I had a small child run at me with a clumsy finger ready to jab at my face in their quest to get a wish easily granted. After all, Mom NEVER gets the eyelash. As of tomorrow, my husband, two smallest children and I are making a trip to Delaware. So this weekâs wish has been the same with every eyelash: PLEASE let us get there and back without killing one another.
âHow come you never get the eyelash, Mom?â? Antonia asks after approximately the sixth one was stolen from me. âBecause someone up there hates me,â? I say.
And then something strange happened. An eyelash fell last night, and lucky Jonah discovered it. âOkay, Mom!! Here we GO!!â? he said once heâd placed it on the tip of his thumb and readied himself for mine.I pressed my thumb into his. I made my wish. We agreed on the count of three to let go. Andâ¦. LO! I got the freaking eyelash.
âHOLY COW!â? Antonia shouted. âMOM GOT HER WISH!!â?
Jonah just smiled wryly. âWell, sort of,â? he said.
âWhat do you mean âsort ofâ?!â? I demanded.
âI acshully wished for YOU to get the eyelash. So⦠I think that means I got MY wish.â?
So maybe I didnât win fair and square after all. OR maybe Jonahâs thumbs were slightly drier than mine. Maybe I applied the EXACT amount of pressure necessary to win the prize. Whatever the case may be, Iâve chosen to take it as a sign that weâre all gonna survive this trip after all.
Iâll see you in a week or so!
KarenJ
What? A superstition I haven’t heard about? How have I survived all these years? 🙂
Amber Johnson
I love the title of this post. Mind if I use it when I publish my biography? 🙂
Have fun!
Liz
The eyelash superstition is the only one I’ve heard of!
But how precious for your son to wish for YOU to get the eyelash…. and get your wish.
Lizzy
I still make wishes if I look at a digital clock that reads 11:11.
How sweet that he gave his wish to you!