the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: tarot (page 3 of 5)

the wheel of fortune. 11 of 22.

wheel of fortune

I was not expecting to see you that day, riding the subway, sitting across from me.

You are one of the only things capable of truly surprising me.

I tried not to stare at you. I nervously tapped my foot. I pretended to read. I acted like I wasn’t eavesdropping when someone with red hair leant in close to you and said, “This feels like it’s taking forever. How many more stops?”

And you said, “Only a few more darling. My place is on Orchard Street.”

Then you looked at me while the stranger bit your ear. You were surprised that neither of us looked away. You tilted your head to the left.

I did not smile. I did not blink. Continue reading

the hermit. 10 of 22.

the hermit

During the four weeks prior to moving in with Anthony I only left my apartment a handful of times. I stayed inside reading books and sitting in silence. Although the silence I refer to does not fall into any category of isolation’s hush.

I was listening quite closely.

I would have stayed if I had known. I would have been more careful.

I read books by Richard Cavendish and Aleister Crowley. I listened to Tibetan chants. I fasted for days at a time. I considered approaching you.

I knew where you were. Closer than ever before. Continue reading

strength. 9 of 22.

strength

Anthony immediately verified the only facts I knew about my father. “He was born in Egypt. He left your mother before you were born. He was a brilliant Physicist.”

He followed up these statements with what I was unaware of. Things I may have not been ready to hear. “Your mother never told him she was pregnant with you. He was in a fatal car accident eleven years ago.”

A warmness covered me from head to toe. The lights in the church flickered. Anthony smiled at me. And somehow I understood that what he was telling me was the only information that would enable me to move forward. Continue reading

the chariot. 8 of 22.

the chariot

The days between leaving the only job I had ever known and attending the Spiritualist church remain some of my most uncertain. I felt the anger taking over that I had been warned about by teachers, the sadness.

I spent a lot of time on top of my apartment building. The alarm meant to sound when the rooftop access door opens never worked. I knew that it wouldn’t from the first day I escaped twenty-seven stories up to see if life appeared different from that height.

The night before I attended mass I stood with the toes of both my feet spread out and over the ledge. One fall forward is what I told myself.

One fall forward. A new type of courage.

But you wouldn’t let me. Continue reading

the lovers. 7 of 22.

the lovers

After many comfortable years at the restaurant it was time to move on. The husband and wife that owned the establishment had grown to consider me theirs.

Tears were shed the day that I left.

The decision was difficult to accept. I knew that life would be easier if I stayed, and in a way that was exactly what I wanted. A daily routine of washing, drying, and pondering.

Life is constructed of arduous choices. Continue reading

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