My Fortune

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I never thought I would go through with it, until I heard what Madame Delia had to say. Now, I know what you must be thinking. But let me explain.

It’s the night of my bachelorette party. My little circle of friends thought it would be a hoot to have a fortune teller give us our fortunes. The group thought it was all hokum, but that it might be fun. Secretly, I was excited! I have always been into astrology, tarot cards, tea leaves, palm reading and all that sort of stuff. At first, I thought it was a novelty that could serve a couple different purposes. That cute girl who can figure out what you’re all about just by knowing your birthday? That’s me. That quirky boho-looking chick who can tell your future just by turning over a few cards from a weird looking deck? Me again. The girl who keeps an actual crystal ball in her bedroom? You guessed it, that’s me. See, it’s a good ice breaker, and it makes me more memorable than others you may meet. Whether it’s in a good way or a bad way is up to the individual.

Of course, I mostly get laughed at or handed a snide comment when people find out my penchant for all things fortune telling. You don’t really believe that crap, do you? Yes, actually, I do. You’re not in a cult or anything like that, are you? No, I most assuredly am not. By trying to tell the future, are you trying to escape the present? Well, no, I just like to be informed.

Hence the reasons why my friends brought me here, and why I’m looking forward to it.

I can’t really explain what drew me to all that at a young age. Does anybody ever really know why they like the things they like? We just do, right? Yes, sometimes you may be genetically predispositioned to like certain things. If you come from a family of musicians, you may very likely have a natural talent for music, for example. I have no explanation other than I just like it.

But I digress. Back to Madame Delia. She looks like quite the character. Her curly jet black hair with just a touch of grey at the temples, is piled on top of her head. Her floaty frock, a lá Stevie Nicks, sways with her every movement. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes like hers. They’re a dark charcoal color with a bit of sparkle, almost like liquid pools of ink.

I’m excited because I’d never been to a real fortune teller before. You may be shocked at that last comment, but it’s true. I told my four good friends to go before me. I wanted to see their reactions to having someone besides me giving them their fortunes. My friends had a mixture of promising and ominous fortunes, including the birth of twins and the death of a loved one.

It’s my turn. As I mentioned before, this is my bachelorette party. Madame Delia doesn’t know this, and I can’t wait to see if she mentions anything about my upcoming nuptials. Because here’s the thing—I just wasn’t sure that I wanted to get married. More specifically, I wasn’t sure I wanted to marry this particular man.

Everything in me has been telling me that now was not the time and not to this guy. And yes, every time I had a cup of tea, I read the leaves. Every time I pulled out my tarot cards, I got the same reading. It was all telling me what I was already feeling. So, I’m most interested to see if Madame Delia will say the same thing.

I’m still trying to get used to the burning incense that is a complete assault on the senses, as I sit across from Madame Delia. I braced myself as she began to speak. “My dear, I see a great life for you…”

*****

It’s two months later, and I’m looking up at The Duomo.

Madame Delia did, in fact, tell me that I shouldn’t get married. She told me that I should follow my dreams, and more importantly, my heart. She was the first one to tell me that. A complete stranger. My own family (and by that I mostly mean my parents), friends, and even my ex-fiancé, never told me that.

“You can’t make a real living with your paintings,” my parents said.

“Colin is a great guy, and you’d have security with him,” my friends said.

“Babe, you know I’d take care of you. You wouldn’t need to paint anymore,” Colin said.

They never took my love for art seriously. Even after I got an Art History degree, even after I sold a few paintings back at home, and even after I had an offer from a gallery to exhibit.

So, I’m living in Florence now, and doing what I love. This city is the best place for artists. The architecture, the views, and the atmosphere is never ending inspiration.

I never thought I’d go through with it, but I did. I decided to live my life the way I wanted to live it.

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