If anything weird is going to happen, you can bet my sister is with me. Together we attract the bizarre. Usually it’s a laughable situation. Just picture Lucy and Ethel in the chocolate factory and you get the idea. The occurrences are not as frequent. Remembering past escapades, we would never risk going anywhere without a full tank of gas and a GPS. And don’t forget the cell phone. As for travelling by plane together – or cruise ship for that matter – optimist that I am, I’d still have to prepare for the worst. We’d be the two clinging to fuselage in the ocean or building shelter with palm fronds on a deserted island. That’s the way of it.
We still enjoy the occasional excursion in search of something entertaining to fight the sameness of existence. We should have left well enough alone. At least I should have. Recently, we headed out of town for an opportunity of enlightenment or at least a few good laughs. It was time to do something crazy.
We weren’t first timers. We’d visited a psychic on a fun but strange outing once before. It’s been years, but heck, it still finds its way into the odd conversation. Off we went. Speaking for myself, it wasn’t that pleasurable. Apparently, my sister has lots to look forward to – my lips are sealed – but sadly, my future seems lacking.
To be honest, I was disappointed to realize she read tarot cards but didn’t appear to have any ‘psychic abilities’. But always one to look to the bright side, I embraced the new experience. When booking the appointment, one must state the length of time, or rather, the amount of money one is willing to fork over. Looking back, it only makes sense that the older we are, the less time required to foretell our un-eventful – and relatively shorter – future. My naivety or hopefulness cost me a few extra bucks better spent on a pedicure.
My appointment was filled with questions – hers. And meaningless chatter – hers. As if she had to fill up the allotted time rather than charge me less. She kept looking above my right shoulder and I wanted to – should have – turn to see if there was a timer or clock behind me.
Anywho, it was disturbing. At least a psychic can astonish with something from the past that leaves you convinced she’s gifted. Or accurately describe someone in the present with enough accuracy to boggle your mind. Now that’s entertaining. With tarot cards, it is what it is. There was no dazzle.
Instead, I’m contemplating my demise. Just joking. Not really. According to the cards, I’ve completed all my life lessons. Finished, she said. I stammered, Does that mean the END? Oh no, she said, but from now on you can do whatever you like. I wanted to say, Sweetie, I’ve lived my whole life that way.
If you’re thinking that’s not so bad, listen to this. She asked if I liked my home. Good, she said. You won’t ever leave there. Somehow, that wasn’t comforting. Nor was the point she made about making an album of pictures so my family could remember me. Pictures for my grandkids down the road, she said. I prefer to think I’m unforgettable but somehow that’s not in the cards.
The next fun outing with my sister will be sky diving. What could possibly go wrong?