Today is 10-11-12, a sequential masterpiece of the calendar that gives me hope that other cogs in the wheels of my life will line up just as perfectly. With numbers as with words, I’m always searching for the inner meaning, which can be sort of annoying at times and definitely doesn’t always work out as predicted. Nonetheless, I enjoy delving into their meaning and like to think of it as my own little applause for a universe gone right, if only for a day.
My husband and I have our own little sequential pattern going, which I’ve adored from the beginning of our relationship. He was born on 7-27-67 and I on 6-26-68. We came quite close to having our first child on 8-28, but alas, she waited til Labor Day (another double meaning!) and September 1 to make her appearance.
Then there was 1994… the year the stars really got together in a lineup worthy of A Chorus Line. I turned 26 on the 26th; my husband 27 on the 27th, my brother 23 on the 23rd and my other brother 17 on the 17th. I think we should have played the lottery every day that year!
Numbers can also signify ominous coincidences to me when I really am desperate to find some meaning or purpose in events beyond my control (that’s my real issue most likely… I really hate to give up control but more on that in a later post). For instance, due to my husband’s and my birthdays, I’m an “even” person with 6 as my defining number and he’s an “odd” person with 7 as his. His father died at age 67, when my husband was 41. My father died at age 66, when I was 41. His father on the 27th, mine on the 13th (half of 26) but after 26 days in the hospital. At this point I really have to chastise myself to stop the digging.
Back to fun numbers, we got married on July 11… 7/11. I promised hubby then and there if he ever forgot our anniversary I’d send him out for a Slurpee.