you lucky bugger
One summer, my cousin and I decided to have a contest to see who could find the most four-leaf clovers in our grandmother’s yard. There seemed to be an overabundance of lucky finds, particularly on the south side of her house, and even five- and six-leaf variations were not uncommon.
I was probably about eleven years old, making my cousin somewhere around seven at the time, but digging deep for signs of luck was no foreign concept to us. We each had the little patches of clover that we declared OURS, dragging the garden hose across the yard to water our crops. Gramma’s kitchen counters became holding grounds of dozens upon dozens of freshly picked four-leaf clovers every day, each needing to be expertly pressed between sheets of waxed paper, set under the toaster, the sugar canister, the cookie jar and endless cookbooks. It was imperative that each wax paper pressing kit was labeled with the date and the finder’s name on a bit of masking tape to ensure there were no discrepancies.
I wish I had a way to prove to you how many we found that summer, because you’d never believe me (and yet, maybe they do all still exist in some forgotten cabinet at Gramma’s house….) but between my cousin and I both, we found over 1200 four-leaf, five-leaf, and six-leaf clovers in a matter of months. And being one to take hard-work to heart, my cousin was the winner – only beating me a couple dozen more.
A few summers later, I lazily picked up a four-leaf clover I saw in the corner of my eye while walking up the sidewalk to Gramma’s house. I put it in a tiny bottle, filled it with water, and sealed the top of it shut. It’s been one of my favorite trinkets for over a decade now. There have been times I’ve dabbed a little bit of the water on my wrists and neck, like a perfume for success, praying that the luck o’ the clover may be with me. But because of the exorbitant amount of lucky finds I found in the damp grass as a child, I don’t really believe there’s anything particularly other-worldly about a four-leaf clover.
It’s probably for the better, seeing as how the four-leaf clover has long since dissolved into the water of the little bottle. But I know it’s still in there. I know that my luck hasn’t changed just because I don’t have tangible proof of it anymore. Most importantly, I know that the things you find most brilliant in life, most fascinating and most unexpected are always there if you take the time to look. I believed they existed – and thus I saw the good. And I still do.
Today is my cousin’s birthday. Maybe the only reason we even found as many clovers as we did was because he was born on St. Patrick’s Day. I know he’s a grown-up now and everything, but I hope he never forgets how he spent that summer making his own luck good.
Happy Birthday Joshie.