I have a green metal sign painted with the number 3 in the home office my husband and I share. It “spoke” to me and I bought it on the spot. (Deciding quickly is not something I relish. It’s not something I do. I have the same thing for breakfast and lunch every day, largely, I suspect, because it would be dinner time and I’d still be in my pajamas by the time I decided what to eat.) There were other numbers and I remember feeling surprised that I’d chosen the 3. I quickly realized it was the number of humans in our nuclear family–a number of some significance given that my husband and I had gone back and forth for years until we concluded that expanding our family to three members with one fantastic child was enough.
On this slushy, grey day as I doodle my own 3, it occurs to me that 3 is also a decider. It forces a conversation to an outcome. There are no ties. A 3 clarifies, it has an opinion, it’s just a little bit different. And different is wonderful.