In My Pocket

I was never what you would call a superstitious person. I had no problem walking under ladders or seeing black cats. I thought the hoopla over it all was pretty silly.

After we found ourselves struggling to conceive, little superstitions started to creep into my routine. I started wishing on the clock when the numbers were the same. "Please let us have a baby," I'd think. I had lucky socks to wear to appointments. I had socks I couldn't wear again because they had the misfortune of being on me the days I miscarried. I carried the first baby related purchase I made, a pair of baby socks, in my purse. I even had a crystal "fertility" bracelet, which I carried with me at all times, usually in my pocket. While I didn't think that those little rituals would be the answer to our issues, I surely felt like it couldn't hurt. Who was I to say what did or did not influence the universe?

Over time, the trinkets were one by one abandoned. The socks are now in the back of my drawer. The baby socks were washed and put in the boys' closet. I'll admit to still occasionally wishing on the clock, but now the wishes are for health and happiness of the ones I love.

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The other day, Jack squirted his fruit pouch contents all over my jacket. I was about to head out on an errand, so I took it off and grabbed a different jacket from the closet as I left.

Halfway through Target is when I found it. It was no longer as shiny and a little yellower than I remembered, but the bracelet was still in my pocket after all this time.

I stopped in the middle of Target looking at this forgotten symbol of my family building. I'm sure it must have seemed funny to the other shoppers, a strange woman caressing a silly old bracelet in the middle of the cat food aisle. But there I stood for several minutes while I fingered the glass beads much in the same way I did at countless RE appointments. 

I slid the bracelet back into my pocket. I have since transferred the bracelet to my usual jacket's pocket.

I am not ready to let go of the hope of another child. And while I know that this small gesture will likely have no impact on the outcome of our family building, I couldn't resist.

It definitely can't hurt.

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This is part of a writing prompt challenge. Thank, Ellen for the topic!