[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t seems as if superstitions have always had a distinct place in our culture. Stepping on a crack “breaks your mother’s back,” and shattering a mirror automatically means enduring seven unfortunate years of terrible luck. Sound ridiculous? Well, what could possibly be more ridiculous than that? Fearing white flowers.
Now before anyone smirks at my insane superstition of something so seemingly harmless, I have an explanation. Growing up in my household, the color white signified a sinister premonition, according to both my grandmother and my mother.
I remember when I was ten years old and desired to surprise my mom on Mother’s Day. I crept into her room and placed a white rose along with a note on her bedside table, believing she would wake up with a smile on her face.
Boy, was I completely wrong.
When she did wake up about an hour later, she stormed into my room and demanded to know why I had placed an omen of death by her bed. Shocked by her accusation, I proceeded to figure out what had caused this outburst. By asking my grandmother, I found out that white reminded them of ghosts. Apparently, wearing the color white associated the living person with the dead. Ancient Chinese people frequently wore white to funerals to mourn their losses.
I suppose the thought of summoning the supernatural terrified me enough to refrain from questioning the explanation. Never again did I place a white rose by my mother’s bedside table.
For some time after that, I avoided buying or keeping anything blaringly white. No white chocolate, no white shirts and definitely no white flowers. Now, I look back and realize the absurdity of the entire situation. I guess my childhood experience was just borderline traumatizing.
Overall, to me, most superstitions are nothing more than just that. Superstitions. They aren’t beliefs that I would base my entire life on. I never partook in avoiding the number 13 or picking up a penny for good luck because they seemed like trivial matters to me. Sure, I suppose good luck would help here and there, but it wasn’t something I looked out for. And to be quite frank, there are just too many superstitions to keep track of.
However, I must admit, I still am just a bit weary of white roses. I would be lying if I said that they no longer have a negative effect on me and send uncalled-for chills down my spine. So whatever you do, no white roses. Please.