“I’m not superstitious,” she said.

Well fine and dandy that you aren’t superstitions, but what if the doctor is?

My grandfather was a very superstitious man, and as a young child in his care I adopted many of his ways.

He used to turn around and find a different route home if a black cat crossed his path, and I too find myself heading in a different direction when I see a dark feline in front of me. 

I jump over all the cracks in the sidewalks because I certainly don’t want to break my mother’s back. 

I don’t walk under ladders.

When someone sneezes I always say, “God bless you,” and I say, “jinx” whenever my mother and I happen to say the same exact thing at the same exact time. 

I’m very careful not to open umbrellas inside, and on the off chance I do, I freak out and close it as quickly as I can. 

I will throw spilled salt over my shoulder just in case and thank God I’ve never broken a mirror. 

And yes, I do forward the obnoxious chain emails that promise “the best day of your life” if you forward it on or “eternal damnation” if you delete immediately, just on the off chance it may actually be a bona fide threat this time. 

In my sane mind, I know even if I shattered a mirror into a million tiny pieces it wouldn’t bring me bad luck for seven years, but why risk it?

Paraskavedekatriaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13^th and my grandfather was stricken with the phobia and would stay inside whenever a Friday happened to fall on the 13^th of the month. While I haven’t gone to that extreme, I anxiously await the end of the day.

While you don’t think twice when you are in the middle of (not) doing something because of a superstition, it seems silly when you put down in words the habits created based on superstitions, especially when some days I get out of bed on the opposite side that I went in and nothing bad happens to me.

Yet how many brides have you known to wear “something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue” on their wedding day?

When my parents found a horseshoe on the lot they were building their house, they saved it and to this day it hangs above the doorway into their home. While it’s a symbol of luck, can I honestly attribute the fact that nothing terribly unlucky has happened in that house to a rusty old horseshoe?

Maybe I wish upon a shooting star and keep it a secret not just for the luck it may bring, but more in fear that spotting one and wasting the opportunity would lead to many days of bad luck. 

— Emma Bouthillette