Numbers and Notions

When I was younger I believed in the magic of numbers.

Three meant safety: public bathroom stalls and the number of pencils on my desk for a big test. Three is the number of girls in my family and the number of cheeses on my favorite pizza. There were three classes I liked and three people I considered my best friends.

Every other number made me uneasy. Four was too many for comfort in the backseat. Two meant a couple—a pairing—and that someone was being left out. Five was the number of fingers on one hand only and I needed both for help in math class. Anything beyond that was unnecessary.

When I was younger I believed that my math teacher was the devil incarnate.

It’s an odd thing to say, I know, since I believed in the mysticism of numbers so strongly, but I hated her all the same. Once, I wrote “I hate Mrs. Jones” across a blank piece of notebook paper and then forgot about it. Months later, Mrs. Jones was attempting to help me with long division when she turned to the page that declared my hatred for her. She then threatened to tell my parents if I didn’t write her an apology note—which I ended up writing the next day seconds before math in a bathroom stall (third from the end, as always). She ended up telling my mom anyway, which I thought was an infringement of our deal, but, really, I was eight and had no power to change the situation.

When I was younger I believed everything I read.

I thought I was going to get a Hogwarts letter and that maybe one day I would be sucked into a magical wardrobe with a supernaturally wise talking lion. I was certain that unicorns existed and I knew that if I ever got wishes from a genie I would wish for more wishes, because that’s what all the smart heroines did. I understood how to banish fairies and I still remember how to cast a dream spell using only lavender and a bar of soap.

When I was younger I believed in a God that sent good little girls to heaven for answering all the questions in Sunday school.

I wasn’t a member of any organized religion—I wasn’t even sure what a religion was. But I believed in things I couldn’t see because of my belief in the people around me. The important influences on my life kept me going down the path that they thought was right; they organized my days in a way that made me the person I am today.

When I was younger I never thought about the future or the past and very rarely the consequences of my decisions. I believed in living life simply–I knew no other way. I still do.