Fortunes

When my mother was younger she went to see a fortune teller on a whim.  At that point in her life, slightly younger than I am now, she bore a striking resemblance to me.  Not in physical features, because to her dismay I look exactly like my father, but in life choices.  My mother was a hard working, dedicated and loving elementary school teacher for the Head Start program in the South Bronx of New York City.  She was also planning to get married.  She was also whimsical, as per the visit with the fortune teller and her upcoming travels to Israel. Needless to say my mother thought the psychic was a crap-ic because he told her both that she was about to meet her future life partner, implying it was not the man she was already with, and that she would make a life for herself in sales, not education.  Putting the night aside as some silly play she went on with her life and journeyed to Israel for some fun in the sun.  But on a fatefully windy day on the beaches of Tel Aviv, my dear mother could not light her cigarette.  My father received his cue from the universe, offered her a light and some shelter from the wind.  Minus the risk of cancer, and betrayal of her man back home, I do not think there could be a more poetic beginning.  She moved in with him that week, married him a few months later, lived in Israel for half a decade and through better and worse continued their partnership over these past thirty some odd years.  God bless the wind. Oh, and when she did finally return to the United States she did stumble into a life-long career in real estate sales through another series of surprising and amusing events.  The crap-ic's crap proved not so crap-full after all.

I am sure my mother would have met my father with or without a fortune teller to predict the occurrence, but because I owe my life to this occurrence I do feel a stronger sense of camaraderie with a psychic's telling than maybe the average bear.  So, even though I was beyond exhausted last night when I got off of work, I could not resist my colleagues when they invited me to come have my Turkish coffee grinds 'read.' 

Traveling in Istanbul during rush hour is an animal of its own genus.  We took one taxi till we hit traffic, got out to walk past the jam, caught another taxi and rode till we hit the next maelstrom of cars burning oil rather than gas.  We got out, ran across a freeway (perhaps one of the most dangerous things I have ever done, and yet fairly acceptable here), and arrived at yet another hilarious play of 7 drivers who decided that their desire to go forwards, backwards and sideways into the same spot at the same time was more important than the aggravating knot they were about to incur, as well as the countless laws they were simultaneously breaking.  I could only stand there for a minute trying to extrapolate how much of a country's culture one could understand from observing their traffic patterns, before we caught one more taxi.  After two hours of traveling a laughably small distance we finally arrived at a small cafe, where a man with piercing green eyes and matching green running pants sat ready to tell us about our pasts, presents and futures. 

We drank our coffee, placed the plate on top of the cup, made three small counter clockwise circles while holding the cup and plate tight.  We then flipped it towards ourselves asking the universe, or whatever force it is who tells a man in running pants things that no stranger should know, our question.  Finding it difficult to settle on one, I tried to keep my thoughts towards professional queries, but of course my relationship with Tarkan snuck in, and so I mostly asked for direction regarding my loves...hoping the universe wouldn't feel snubbed by my greedy attempt at a twofer.

Although fortune telling is typically a personal experience between one's self and the teller, my teller spoke Turkish and unless my fortune concerned the locations of bathrooms, or the lyrics of Michael Jackson songs, I didn't think my language skills would do the trick.  So, my friend Tomris joined as my fortune translator, a title I would love to hold.   Here is what they said: in the past year and a half I have made some changes, some big changes, and they are working, or rather I am working them and beginning to see the difference.  But a dark man, dark in character but also dark in complexion, who lived far away from me hurt me a year ago, he damaged me, betrayed me.  My first piece of psychic advice, "stay away." He told me I have a strong personality and have been able to recover from most of this hardship but again, I should "stay away."  To me, it was an obvious and seemingly unnecessary warning--and yet still portentous, as if there may be a time when I wont be able to keep my distance, like a run-in at a restaurant.  Or an unknown mutual friend.  The psychic found Tarkan in my little coffee cup, he found our meeting and our love and our worries and our future daughter, who we will meet in around two years.  All hiding in shades of muddy brown.  He saw our engagement and our wedding which he predicts will happen around April or May.  And he saw my careers, because he saw two: teaching and writing.  Moreover, he saw that my writing will be about my life, but because my life is also about teaching my writing will also be about learning.

He asked me to pick a number between one and five, and make a wish.  I wished for the security and confidence in my decisions, for the ability to have faith in my directions.  He looked a bit confused for a moment and then asked me if I had made more than one wish, perhaps two or three.  Busted again by my greedy ways I confessed, explaining that they all seemed terribly connected in my mind.  He asked if I had guessed the number three, which I had, and told me all three of my wishes would come true.  So, I guess the universe is more understanding after all.  Understanding, all knowing, disturbing and delightful.  

Flushed by the accuracy of his detailing of my past, and excited about the prospect of my future I returned to the cafe table to absorb.  There were no shockers, there was no future partner I was about to meet, or profession in sales I would leave teaching for.  Only some warnings to heed and inspiration to pursue.  I came home and decided to write.  I've been writing all day.  Perhaps I would've written without the encouragement of a fortune teller telling me to, but perhaps my mother would not have been open to the idea of meeting her future partner if her psychic hadn't told her she would.  Fate's such a funny little friend...sometimes.