I’ve been trying not to overthink anything that isn’t within my control. That’s just another way of trying to predict the future. And I have no idea what’s going to happen.
For now, I’m learning how to trust life as it comes. I’m continuing to learn how to trust myself.
Logan nudges me. “One more for old times’ sake?”
“Absolutely not.”
“We might go home empty-handed, or we could win big,” he says, thinking this will tempt me.
I’m skeptical, but also kind of intrigued. “We already did win big, in more ways than one.” I glance back over at the sign.
Haven’t we pushed our luck enough? Everything’s been going so well. Yes, metaphorical shoes have dropped, but Logan and I have been there to catch them. Together. We’ve made our own fortune. It’s what we’ve been doing since the beginning.
“You want to do a temp check? After all this time?” I ask.
“Let’s just see,” Logan says. “I owe you dim sum after.”
I take a deep breath in as we head toward the fortune teller. She has availability now, inviting us to sit down in the two chairs across from her. A red tube sits on the table between us, patterned cloth spread over the surface.
“Have either of you done Chinese fortune sticks before?” she asks after introducing herself as Mel.
We shake our heads no. And while it’s true, it doesn’t feel accurate. We haven’t done this kind of fortune-telling before, but doing a fortune reading together isn’t unusual. We’ve been here before. Because of me. Because of Toffee. Because of who knows what else.
And then my spontaneous act somehow turned intoourtradition. So here we are in another fortune teller’s booth. Again.
Mel explains to us that Chinese fortune sticks, or kau chim, is one of the oldest fortune-telling methods. Inside the tube are sticks with numbers on them. We’re supposed to ask a question and then shake the tube until one of the sticks falls out. The number on the stick corresponds to our fortune in a booklet, which she holds up for us both to see.
“It’s based on numbers?” I ask.
Mel nods. “This is also known as lottery poetry.”
I cast my eyes over to Logan. There’s a hint of amusement dancing across his teal irises.
I can’t help but laugh. Because of course it’s called that. Andnothing feels more poetic than the two of us playing a lottery together, yet again.
“What if we ask a joint question?” I propose to Logan.
He rubs his chin, nodding. “Minimize the chances of any flipping.”
“Exactly. Toffee’s already with Mrs. Walker today so we can rest easy there.”
“Okay, let’s do it,” he says.
“Same question?” I ask.
“As always.”
Mel pops the lid off the tube and hands it to me.
The sticks inside look like long Popsicle sticks, their wood faded with red painted on the ends. Chinese numbers are printed along the sides of each one.
Did our luck actually flip? I do wonder about it every now and then. I’ve learned to accept that we may never really know what happened that day in September. In life, you don’t always get concrete answers any more than you get answers about the future.
Even when you hold on tight and try to take control, nothing is certain. Nothing is guaranteed.
Maybe it’s when we resist trying to solve life’s mysteries that we get to enjoy our present, welcome the future, and reflect contentedly on the past.
Maybe, by letting go of what wethinkwe know, we actually change the prophecy.
