I am a firm believer in numbers. And by that, I mean that I believe numbers have some kind of meaning behind them—especially when they continue to pop out of nowhere.
I get that that might sound ridiculous, but it’s true: numbers have significance. And they don’t have to mean the same thing for everybody, but there’s something to them. I just can’t put my finger on it.
For one thing, the number seven constantly pops in and out. My mom is the first of seven kids. (Yeah, I know that sounds like a lot, but what can I say? We’re Irish.) Her mom, my Nanny, was born on July 7th, which in numerical terms, looks like 7/7. And I am one of seventeen of Nan and Grandpa’s grandchildren. For as long as I can remember, seven has always been known as Nan’s number, so whenever that number pops up in my life, she’s always the first thing I think of.
(And even weirder information: when Nanny passed away, it was on the 17th of February. At that time, I was 17 years old, and she was 70.)
Also, two of my own lucky numbers are 27 and 87…so sevens basically pop up everywhere.
Another number I find a lot is four. The simplest reason it has meaning to me has to do with my birthday: I was born in April, the fourth month of the year. So of course this number was going to be significant for me. I’m also the first of my dad’s four biological children, and he’s the last of four children. I have four aunts that I share blood with, and four nieces. Also, my Oma (my Dad’s mom), was born on the 24th of January. I guess I don’t really have any one specific thing that reoccurs with the number four, but it’s there.
Fun fact: For some weird reason, the number four, and any other number ending in four (i.e.: 24, 54, 84), have always been the only even numbers I like. Otherwise, I prefer odd numbers.
The last number I’m going to talk about, as you may have guessed from the title, is the number three. Three, the epitome of a number with a meaning behind it. In so many mythological and urban legends, the number three shows up, and it’s always seen as either the best number to show up…or the worst. (It’s usually the worst.)
That number runs around everywhere in my life. For starters, I’m the third of six children. On my mom’s side of the family, my cousins come in either groups of three, or are only children. My older sister, Joanne, and her husband, Mike, have three kids. My older brother, Rick, and his wife, Ryan, have three kids. My godmother, Roxanne (also my dad’s sister), is the third of four kids. Out of my mom’s siblings, she is one of three girls. I have three sisters.
My zodiac sign, the Aries, may be the first sign of the zodiac cycle, but guess what? It’s the third sign of every year. I only ever met three of my grandparents: Nan, Grandpa, and Oma; my Opa died in 1987 (there’s seven again!). I have three scars on my body: one on my right foot, one on my right hand, and one on my left leg. I have three tattoos on my body: one on my left wrist, one on my left ankle, and one on my right ankle.
And best for last: I’ve always been a part of a trio. For most of middle school, my best friends were Kayla and Brittany. In high school, I mostly had Brittany and Jeanette. Then in college, my roommates, Megan and Olivia, were my closest friends. I have two that are family, Rebecca and Justina. And my best friends from home for the last couple of years have been Jeanette and Amanda. So I guess I’ve always been a Three Musketeer kind of girl.
Isn’t it crazy how much a number can pop up in your life? I knew three was a good number for me, but once I started thinking about it…there was a lot to take in. It’s a very interesting concept, right? How often can a number really reoccur? I don’t know, but I think I need a nap.
Prompt: What are the three most significant numbers in your life? Elaborate.