Today, I am on a mission. A mission to find a clover. Not just any clover, but a four-leaf clover. Each delicate blade of grass slips between my fingers, still slippery from the morning dew. As I rummage through a patch of clovers, I turn up empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The park meadow\u2019s green stretches further than I can see. From afar each blade of grass blends into an evenly level height. Yet, as I approach a new section, I see the imbalance I could not see in one piece.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The section by the trees are sparse with clovers, but abundant with acorn caps. I wonder where all the acorns are themselves, then I spot the squirrels in the trees above staring at me, rubbing their maniacal furry itty-bitty hands together. The sight is a bit unsettling, so I venture away from the trees and into the open field.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pops of lavender spring up, taller than the sea of green it rests in. I know lavender is nothing more than a beautiful distraction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I keep skimming through the grass for clovers. Each batch I inspect with a grace that would even have a surgeon envious. Despite my grit and valor, I turn up empty over and over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The sun lashes my head from directly above. I start to feel heavy, sneezing from the pollen I disturb into the air each time I swath my palms over the turf. I sneeze even more vigorously as I use my pointer finger to rub my nose and realize in hindsight the dander now coats my face from cheek to cheek.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I decide to call Uncle Harry, to see if we can go home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He is down by the car, resting in his naval officer suit, hat drawn down to block out the sun. Occasionally the dandelion stalk shuffling in-between his teeth would toss into the caps bill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Uncle Harry asks what is wrong, sighting my slump shoulders and head staring at the ground still searching for a last second capture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I tell Uncle Harry of my mission.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He chuckles, bends down, and plucks a four-leaf clover from right below us. Clenching the rare treasure in his fist at first, then lowering his clasp hand to my eyesight as I peel each finger back, revealing the four-leaf clover with now slight crumbles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before I can even gather my shock and awe, my uncle flecks the clover off his palm and a breeze drifts it away into the grass field behind us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ready myself to dash back into the meadow. My uncle gently grabs me by my shirts collar and twists me back towards the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We are going home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because, you make your own luck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I get in the car and we drive off. I do not fret. Tomorrow I will be back looking again. I plan to make my own luck, that is the mission.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Today, I am on a mission. A mission to find a clover. Not just any clover, but a four-leaf clover. Each delicate blade of grass slips between my fingers, still slippery from the morning dew. As I rummage through a patch of clovers, I turn up empty. The park meadow\u2019s green stretches further than I … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2354","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-BY","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2354","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2354"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2354\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2355,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2354\/revisions\/2355"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2354"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2354"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2354"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Eric Persaud is an Indo-Guyanese American living in New York City. He is currently working on his doctoral dissertation in Public Health and writing stuff in his free time.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"