Writing prompt: talismans
Image from The Heart
Chronicles. "Vintage" (presumably long
dead) rabbit's foot from the Etsy shop
marytofts: antiques and
curiosities.
Do the talismans protect you? They
do not.
Do they
bring on a creative rush, make you joyous when you
are bereft, give you the courage and faith to love
when your heart is stony and withdrawn? They do not.
Then why carry them around? Why write on the bathroom
mirror each morning “I will have a great day,” in
perky cursive with mauve lip liner if it doesn’t
really work? The coffee will overflow, the bus will
be late, someone will eat your sandwich from the
communal refrigerator.
I knew a girl who used to carry around a rabbit’s
foot – lucky for her, unlucky for the rabbit, the
joke goes. Whenever she was called on in class, she
would pull the foot out of her pocket, would worry
worry worry the soft fur. Later she dropped out,
ended up as an exotic dancer in that sex shop strip
by the airport. Some luck.
I’ve opened umbrellas in the house, I’ve stayed on
the thirteenth floor, I’ve watched frozen as a black
cat crosses my path. Still here to tell about it, and
to say: luck is often random. Sometimes we bring
things upon ourselves, the good and the bad, we court
the accident or flirt with the firing. Or we pave the
way for happiness, work hard, make intelligent
choices, drop the bad friends.
It’s not quite a crap shoot. It isn’t hocus pocus.
But if your talismans bring comfort, well, that’s ok.