Thirteen lucky petals

(This was actually written on 4/13... by hand, even!  So pretend for a minute that you're reading this on that date.  K, thanks.)

J and I took out the garbage tonight and played outside.  J inadvertently scared two pigeons out of their hiding spot which, in turn, scared him out of his skin ("I can feel the adrenaline in my tongue...").  He hopped to the top of a retaining wall, light as a cat.  I climbed it, graceful as an elephant.  We raced to the car and laughed.  He spent the evening in the living room with me.

We should take out the garbage more often.  We must play more often.

I have been somewhat afraid of thirteens in recent years.  I'm not sure why.  I know it's all superstition.  Still, in life's difficult or stressful or worrisome situations, when a thirteen was added to the mix, I would be hit with a small but powerful emotional "d'oh!"  Like the time I, a nervous-ish flyer, was seated in row thirteen of the airplane (d'oh!).  Or when my latest poetry club started at school and I was nervous enough, and on the first day I had thirteen students (d'oh!).  Or being in the midst of an uncertain and emotional situation, on the edge of an ending I didn't want, and the 13th of the month was looming (sigh... d'oh...).

So I approached today with trepidation.  And the difficult bit did come to pass.  Not a huge bit.  Not a bridge burned or an awful exchange or anything, but the sad choice to say goodbye to something.  It hurt.  I was disappointed.  I let a few tears fall.  It wasn't a choice I wanted to make, but I felt I needed to, so I did it.

And then my day improved.  Exponentially.  To the thirteenth power.

After goodbye and the thirteen or so tears, I felt stronger... I felt strong.  The best part is, I realized almost immediately that I had learned from what I lost.  I recently saw a quote by attributed to Confucius: "Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous."  I have thought long about this situation while I was in it.  I think a lot about things.  I often struggle (yeah, or don't bother) to find or adequately consider the lesson in them, though.  I learned from this one, though, and I feel real strength and happiness in that.

Here's what I got:

       When you don't take care of things, people will think you don't care

       The purpose of writing is to get rid of the garbage

       Music is not to make you feel better or worse, it's to let you know you aren't alone

       He wants me to be happy

Here's what I'll remember:

       Care          Write          Music          Be happy

And tonight, this 13th evening of the month, I learned from taking out the garbage and playing with J.  I learned to remember to take out the garbage with J.  I learned to remember to play with J.  And I think maybe I learned to stop being afraid of thirteens.