It’s 2012 so I probably shouldn’t believe in curses, except my life has been wave after wave of unfortunate events lately and I’m beginning to wonder. Every time I think, “well, this has to be the last thing,” it isn’t. So much so that I haven’t been able to write lately. I don’t have the mental strength to be creative. Writing this right now, I’m running on dregs.
Perhaps even more unfortunate than feeling this way was mentioning the idea of a curse or blight to my Trinidadian mother, who immediately yelled at me for not informing her sooner so she could have done something about it.
Cowed from getting yelled at (and let’s face it, blamed, for everything that’s been happening in our house), I simply stood aside while she got the car keys and headed out to get the things she needed to “take care of it.” My husband, to his credit, zipped his lips and backed quietly out of the room. He grew up in Trinidad too. He knows not to get in the way of a Trini woman on a mission to get rid of a blight.
So crazy as it sounds, there is a part of me that really wants this whole curse thing to be true, if only so that my mother can banish it from the house, and things can get back to normal around here. Of course if this all actually works, the new curse will be: I’ll never hear the end of it.