After almost a year, I tired my hand at driving again. Aside from maxing out at a rousing 30Km/h, I thought I did pretty well. I have yet to try driving in the city. I've only practised on the deserted roads in the centre of the little island we vacation on.
The middle of the island is flat and grassy. The warm, dry, fire-hazardous grass is home to crickets, quails, mice, and bunnies. I was surprised, and slightly relieved not to have spotted any lagomorphs playfully bounding around the island thus far on our journey, as bunnies are a little bit of a gut wrenching reminder of my recent ex's positive qualities.
It's too damn bad they have to be so cute. I got super stoked when a cluster of wild rabbits wanted to cross the road just ahead of my car.
After watching one after another join their mates across the street, I was left with a distinct stabbing pain in my chest. After a few mellow dramatic, hammed up sobs followed by maniacal laughter, I received a "what the hell is wrong with you now?" glare from my ever sympathetic mother. Thankfully that put me back in the driving zone quickly.
Earlier that day, I went into my favourite New Age store. It offers scientifically viable services such as: angel readings, chakra readings, aura readings, and aroma therapy! I like this hippie hut because back in the day when I had access to the equipment, I would buy gemstones for jewellery making. I like it now because it confirms stereotypes and supplies me with decently priced Nepalese jewellery.
Since I was a little girl, I have wanted tarot cards. After a few months scouring the more colourful areas of Vancouver to no avail, I gave up on my dream. As soon as I walked into the New Age store, I knew. I asked the same dreamy looking clerk that's always there if she had tarot cards. She pointed majestically to the far corner of the store. The last, perfect, classic pack of cards was there on a stand, just for me. It was fate.
You see, dear reader, when one looks for their own deck of future divulging tarot cards, it is recommended their deck is picked for them by a person of a mystical persuasion for the bond between the cards and the divinator to be especially strong. Little does she know that I'm probably going to bust this deck out at parties as a fun trick and make my own deck with personalized cards based on the original set, but that's ok.
I eagerly read the instruction booklet and began assigning cards for the people in my life who will be common significators. It was a hard decision between the Queen of Wands, who wears a tunic with lizards on it, or the Queen of Pentacles, whose personality matches mine. I was originally drawn to the Queen of Pentacles, so she seemed the more fitting choice. I searched through the deck for myself. Lo and behold, she kind of looked like me, meaning she has short brown hair and a face.
Upon closer inspection, I was floored by the cruel irony of the universe present in the lower right-hand corner of the card.
Now by this point in the day, I had been doing some thinking about symbolism, memories, how sentimental I am and such. Instead of spiralling into sorrow and wallowing in my own crapulence, I realized that the lump-in-the-throat feeling may be a good thing. Remorse that something is over means it wasn't a total waste of time; to me, that is very good thing. Growing apart, death, and moving on are all a part of life. I am the kind of girl that normally holds grudges, long, bitter grudges. Strangely enough, not this time. Could I be growing up to some degree? As much as I do not enjoy feeling melancholy, heartache reminds us that the world is so much bigger than ourselves, and that we share our experiences with the people we choose to surround ourselves with.
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