Oh, I am so glad you asked about my trip to the tarot reader. I have been meaning to tell someone, because it was the most wonderful and confusing afternoon of my entire life, and I think I learned something, though I am not entirely sure what.
I had heard about these “tarot people” from a friend of a friend who said they could “see into the future.” I thought, well, that sounds lovely. I have always wanted to know what kind of sandwich I should have for dinner, or if I will finally learn to whistle properly. So I went. I was not afraid. Why would I be? The future is just a place I haven’t been yet, like a nice park I haven’t visited. I was actually quite excited.
The woman’s name was Marla, and she had a little room with a purple curtain and a lot of candles. She smelled like a bakery that also sold incense. She sat me down at a small table and took out a deck of cards that were very old and very beautiful, with pictures of people doing dramatic things like hanging upside down or walking off cliffs. I thought, “Oh, this is like a storybook.” I love storybooks.
She shuffled them for a long time, which I thought was polite. Then she laid out three cards. She pointed to the first one, which showed a man holding a big stick with a star on it.
“This is The Magician,” she said. “It means you have all the tools you need. You are resourceful.”
I nodded very seriously. “Oh, yes,” I said. “I have a very good pocketknife and I always carry a spare pen.”
She blinked at me. “No, it’s… a deeper meaning. It’s about your willpower and your ability to manifest.”
“Manifest?” I said. “Like in the airport? When you pick up your suitcase?”
She sighed a tiny sigh, but she did it nicely. Then she flipped the second card. This one had a woman sitting on a throne with a big sword in one hand and a scale in the other. She looked very stern, like a librarian who has run out of patience.
“This is Justice,” Marla said. “It means you are being called to make a decision. A fair one. Perhaps you have been avoiding a truth.”
I stared at the card. I thought very hard. “I did lie to my neighbor last week about borrowing his hedge trimmer,” I said. “I told him I would return it by Tuesday, but I actually used it on Wednesday. Is that the truth I am avoiding?”
Marla put her hand over her mouth. I think she was trying not to sneeze. “That is… very specific. But yes. That is a truth.”
Then she turned over the third card. It was The Tower. A big stone building was being struck by lightning, and people were falling out of it. They looked quite surprised, as if they had been in the middle of a nice nap and suddenly found themselves airborne.
Marla’s face went white. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, my. This is not a gentle card. This means sudden upheaval. Destruction. A collapse of everything you thought was stable.”
I looked at the card. The people were falling, but they had their arms out, and they didn’t look scared. They looked like they were flying. “That doesn’t seem so bad,” I said. “They are getting a very fast tour of the sky. I have always wanted to see what a cloud tastes like. And you know what? When the tower falls, they get to build a new one. And maybe this time they’ll put in a slide.”
Marla stared at me for a very long time. Then she laughed. Not a mean laugh—a laugh like a bell. “You might be the only person I have ever read who sees The Tower as good news.”
“Well,” I said, “it’s just a card. The tower is still standing somewhere in my imagination. And I am not in it. I am here, in this nice bakery-smelling room, with a kind woman and a lot of candles. So I think I am already safe.”
She packed up her cards and gave me a little card with her number on it. “Come back anytime,” she said. “You remind me why I do this.”
So I walked home, not afraid of the future at all. I still don’t know what my sandwich should be, but I have a feeling it will be something with cheese. And if a tower falls on me tomorrow, I will just wave at the clouds on the way down.