When a pitcher is seven innings into a no-hitter, you don’t talk about it. Everyone knows what’s happening; his teammates, his coaches, and foremost: his catcher. Suggesting he’s on the verge of something rare and great is enough to send the psychological construct of the whole thing tumbling down. You leave well enough alone, keep your thoughts to yourself and give him the time and space he needs.
When Autumn is having an exceptionally well-tempered day, we don’t talk about it. “Don’t tempt the beast,” is our mantra. A two-month old girl, given the right conditions, can be a source of profound joy or intolerable cruelty. We’ve experienced more of the former, thankfully, but memories of the latter keep us vigilant. We sing and swaddle, bathe and bounce. We surround her in every way with a world of joy and peace. And when we’re on a roll, and smiles abound, and the ringing in our ears has faded, we drink it in and keep the beast at bay.
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