My favorite number is 19. I love its oddness, its primeness (is that a word?), and the fact that it just misses the precision of being 20--a round, even, perfectly divisible and boring number. Yawn. 19, on the other hand, stands firm in its indivisibility and uniqueness, refusing to be compromised.
I can't remember exactly when 19 became "my" number, but I know it was deeply entrenched as my favorite by the 4th grade. At the end of the year, my teacher, Mrs. Hoyt, had all of us pick a number between 1 and 50. The student who guessed the number closest to the one she was thinking of would win the classroom wall mural we had created over the course of the school year. We all poured our 4th-grade hearts and souls into that mural, so it was quite a coveted prize. I won the mural. Mrs. Hoyt chose 19 because it was our room number, but I never thought of that. I just liked 19.
At age 19, my last year of being a teenager, I was a sophomore at Michigan State. It was the year I met my best friend Sue; I was dating Bob, my first true love; and I went off to spend a fantastic summer working in Glacier Park. Life couldn't have been better. Yep, 19 was a very good age and a year of great fortune. It will always be my favorite number.
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