A Fortune Teller

, by Zoë Gulliksen

When I was younger, I would wish that I would live a never boring life. I was terrified of being stuck in a job I hated in a town where nothing exciting happened. I somehow always knew that I was meant for something so much more.

Around the age of 11 I went to a carnival hosted by New York Mayor Mike Bloomberg because a relative was an employee of his. There were food and ice cream trucks driving every where giving out free food, carnival games and rides, a fun house and countless arcade games. Despite these attractions, all I wanted to do was see a fortune teller. I made my mother wait in line on a hot summer day for ages just to see one.

When it was finally my turn a woman said that she didn't specialize in children, unlike the man next to her, but she would give me a simple reading. This fortune teller read my palms and said that I would have a very happy and successful marriage. However, after a moment  the woman paused and placed her hands in her lap, looking at me with such an odd expression.

The fortune teller turned to my mom and said in a slow, hushed voice: "I hope you realize what an extraordinary daughter you have. One day she will do great things."

My mom doesn't believe in any nonsense like this,  and I don't blame her. I'm skeptical of people who tell stories for a living and pass it off as fact. But that woman acted so surprised, that part of me needs to believe that. My mom still talks about this story these days, pointing out that the gypsy was right whenever I do something ridiculous and out of the ordinary. (Like interview Steven Spielberg)

So no matter what I believe, I will always think that on a hot summer day in New York, a complete stranger predicted that I would live an extraordinary life. I find that very comforting.


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