In the colorful tapestry of our lives, there are days that bear the weight of superstitions, days that evoke a sense of foreboding, and for me, one such day is Friday the 13th. It’s a date that carries with it a legacy of fears and superstitions for many, a legacy woven into the fabric of my upbringing and seared into my memories.

You see, my mother was a firm believer in the power of superstitions, and she instilled in me a deep-seated fear of Friday the 13th. And, boy she was superstitious. It was a day when black cats were avoided, mirrors were scrutinized for cracks, and ladders were circumvented with the utmost caution. To my young and impressionable self, it felt as if the universe conspired to cast an eerie shadow over this day. It was an odd feeling to have and be on the lookout for every year.

My fears and superstitions surrounding Friday the 13th took on a devastating haunting reality when my beloved dog passed away on that ill-fated day a decade ago. It was a painful loss that seemed to be inextricably tied to the superstitions I had been raised with. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some sinister force at play, something beyond my understanding that sought to make this day a harbinger of sorrow.

As if fate were determined to compound my superstitions, the unthinkable happened this past year. On a day that fell close to yet another Friday the 13th, I received the devastating news of my spouse’s passing. The coincidence was eerie, and it reignited my fears, superstitions, and an almost instinctive need to ward off the malevolence of this day.

Now, as I find myself facing the second Friday the 13th of 2023, I am acutely aware of the superstitions that have wrapped themselves around me like an invisible shroud. The specter of this day looms large, and I feel compelled to engage in rituals and charms to ward off the evil eye.

I knock on wood, clutching at the fragile thread of hope that it might protect me from the shadows of this day. I contemplate wrapping myself in a metaphoric bubble, a sanctuary to shield me from the unpredictable forces that Friday the 13th seems to unleash.

Yet, as I navigate these rituals and superstitions, I am reminded that they are the tools of our human psyche to cope with uncertainty and fear. We create these rituals, these charms, as a way to assert some control over the uncontrollable, to find solace in the face of life’s unpredictability.

The events of the past year have underscored the profound significance of these fears and superstitions in my life. And I realize that I am not alone in my need for such rituals. The world’s current global events have brought forth collective fears and anxieties that we all grapple with. In these times, we cling to our own protective rituals, our own charms, as beacons of hope and comfort.

In the end, Friday the 13th may always be a day that carries an extra weight of superstition for me, but it’s also a day when I acknowledge the power of the human spirit to create rituals and symbols that provide us with a semblance of order in the chaos of existence. In the face of uncertainties and fears, we hold onto these rituals, these charms, and together, we find our way through the darkness and into the light.