“Give me your hand.”
I did as I was told.
And with that my friend who fancies herself a sort of medium began my forecast of things to come. By 43, she predicted, I’ll be settled down with a tall, dark and handsome artist from Europe. Eventually, the palm reading turned into a session on the couch.
Your brother needs you. Reach out to him.
Forgive your father.
Don’t worry about your mother. She’s stronger than everyone in your family combined.
And wait for love. It’s coming. But first, you must fix things with your family.
I have no idea where she got her insight into my family. In our previous conversations, we’d never gone that deep. But there it was last night, all out on the table. She painted a few broad strokes that could apply to pretty much any life. But she also eerily pinpointed some specifics. A few things she got wrong (like my chronological placement in the order of my siblings), a few she nailed.
Thirty minutes into our impromptu session, a guy at the other table was reading palms, too. I thought he was making fun of us, but he insisted that he, too, is connected to a higher power.
I’m still not sure whether I’m buying any of it. I believe in psychic ability, premonitions and things that go bump in the night. When it comes to the lines on my hand determining the course of my life story, though, that’s pushing it a little bit.
But I’ll take that tall, dark, handsome artist from Europe.