August 2012
Lincoln City, Oregon
Crouching down, I placed my hand on the ground. I ran my fingers over the edge of the grass -in the same way that a girl in high school would excitedly run her hand over a guy’s newly buzzed head. That sort of girl was not me.
There were lots of patches of grass, filled with tons of clovers, all along the walkway that led to the beach. I chose my spot at random while my dad and little brother continued walking ahead.
I was filled with hope.
Looking for four-leaf clovers had become my new hobby -one that I’d had a few decades ago, back in the first grade. Recess.
Minutes passed and nada: no four-leafs.
I popped up, took a few steps, went back down: new patch, new hope.
As soon as my eyes began surveying the ground, I heard footsteps; but, I mustered the I-really-couldn’t-care-less and so-judge-me-if-you-shall attitude. And anyway, we all know how boring or self-conscious you are, if you have the time to judge. But, never mind that.
Preparing to feel the silence from the eyes of a passerby, I was mistaken. Instead, I heard a voice.
“Did you lose something,” the person said.
Did I lose something? What? No.
“No, but thanks,” I replied hastily.
But, that’s when it hit me.
I have lost something.
And in that same moment, I suddenly smiled: a four-leaf clover.
Aw, I found one…TWO!
THREE!
What! FOUR!
And low and behold -five. Not only five, but the fifth one was different. It was my first five-leaf clover.
Wow. They do exist.