When I was married, I used to live in Alaska. We had a huge yard, all planted with grass. My husband always left the lawn cutting to me. In fact, the lawn mower was a birthday gift. He was practical. (One Christmas I received a vacuum cleaner.) Cutting our lawn was quite a job, as summer in Anchorage has about 19 hours of daylight per day and it caused everything to grow like crazy. One day as I was outside playing with the dogs I saw a four leaf clover. It was the first I have ever found. I continued searching in that area and I found about a dozen more. Such a thrill, although I am not really superstitious, it was still exciting to actually find them.
I took the special clovers in the house and carefully pressed them in a large book between tissue papers. I noted the exact spot of the magical clover plants and planned to continue my search in the next few days. I was hoping that more of the wonderful clover would appear. I thought of many things I planned to do with the clover and mentally made a list of those with whom I intended to share them. What fun!
Several days later on a weekend day, I was working in the house when a sound vaguely entered my conscious thought ... must be a neighbor. As I went upstairs, the sound grew louder and I realized it was not coming from the neighbor's yard. The sound was coming from my very own lawn mower, in our very own yard, as it mowed down my sacred clover patch. For the first time in my married life I witnessed my husband doing actual physical labor, mowing the lawn. I was momentarily incensed and overwhelmed by his viciousness. It just seemed to be the culmination of our entire dysfunctional relationship. Irrational thoughts of revenge nearly overwhelmed my reason. The magical area of clover was already down and although I was completely baffled as to why, after all this time, when I had actually begged him to cut the lawn in the past, he had taken this time to actually do it. His action, if coincidental (I was not convinced), seemed exemplary of our life together.
Perhaps it was at that moment I first visualized myself packing my belongings and driving down the Alcan highway, headed back home. Well, maybe not, but our marriage did end and I do still occasionally recall that moment when I discovered him destroying my magical four leaf clover patch. As is common in relationships that are just not meant to be ... it felt as if this was just one more sign of our incompatibility and lack of communication. In my more rational moments, coincidence enters my mind, but I wouldn't bet on it!
I often think of this story on St. Patrick's Day. I guess it is all the clover that reminds me.
