Wednesday's Child

Chapter 1 It has been said that to be born on a Wednesday is an instant curse. To some, this is a silly superstition, and a wise tale handed down through a nursery rhyme. To me, it is reality. It is my life and it has always been my destiny. As with all curses, there is never a place to run. There is never a place to hide, and although we all may try, you can never change the course of your destiny. I have heard about this curse since the time that I was old enough to understand, and I was around the age of six when my grandmother first revealed my fate to me.

One summer evening while spending summer vacation with my grandmother, she called me outside for a walk with her. It was a walk that we had taken many times together, and it was always a time of peace and contentment for me. Our walks were always taken in the evening, when the night was cool and the stars were just beginning to twinkle. Like a nightly ritual, each walk led us down a trail that ran through a wooded area that lay only a few feet from my grandparent’s country home. To this day, I could still walk that trail with perfectly straight steps with my eyes closed, and I can smell the summer jasmine that once bloomed along the path.

On these days, no different than any other, my grandmother would take my hand and we would walk in the cool night air as the stars would shine above us. I can still hear my grandmother’s voice, as she would repeat the rhyme “I see the moon, and the moon sees me God bless the moon and God bless me. For he so loved the world, he gave his son you see. I love God and God loves me.” I would look far up into the sky and repeat this rhyme with her over and over again. But on this particular evening, as I began to chant the words in a second verse, my grandmother squeezed my hand and silenced my rhyme.

“Anika,” she said. “You be a Wednesday’s child, destined for a hard life. We did everything we could to stop your mama’s labor. But nothing we tried would calm your desire to come into this world one day later or one night earlier. It is not good to be born on a Wednesday. It just ain’t good.”

I looked into her eyes mixed with trouble and hope, and although I had only a child’s concept for what she had just said, I suddenly remembered something that I had overheard somewhere at some time. Without missing a beat, I looked up to her and I quickly said, “But Granny, I’m a big girl and big girl’s ain’t never afraid to rumble with the devil.”