Celtic Cross | #ONC2019

I.

Premonitions can present in many ways.

Dreams.

Visions.

Signs.

Gut feelings.

The ancient Celts believed premonitions could even be heard in bird song.

So I don't know why it surprised me when my own premonition came to me in the form of a Tarot card.

It was a blustery day in December as I made my way down the sidewalk of East Broadway towards Clear Portals, Massachusetts' premiere New Age establishment with only the finest pagan paraphernalia to grace South Boston's streets since the Salem Witch Trials.

That's what the owner, Nick, would tell anyone who asked, anyway—and even those who hadn't.

As for myself, I was a Tarot reader by trade, a profession I decided on at a young age after finding my grandmother's old Rider-Waite deck hidden away in my mother's attic. From what I was told, I was good at it, and more times than I could count, clients would call Nick after their appointments to inform him I'd been spot-on, how my readings were eerily precise. I appreciated their praise.

Honestly, I was just offering a service that also happened to be something I enjoyed.

In the years I worked at Clear Portals, Nick would often remind me there was no harm in being paid for doing something you loved while he handed me my weekly paycheck. And that there especially wasn't anything wrong with people being appreciative of the insight, as I attempted to refuse the exorbitant tips clients left behind.

That was harder to accept.

To be thanked for something that came so naturally.

But Nick continued to schedule my appointments for customers new and returning, and I kept doing that something I loved, which also allowed me to rent a one-bedroom apartment just a few blocks away.

And it was in that apartment that I always performed my first reading of the day. As part of my morning ritual, I would pull a single card from my favorite deck, just to see what it had to say about the coming hours.

However, that morning's result haunted me as I followed my usual route to work. Usually, I could do my reading and continue on with my day, but the chosen card was distracting me more than I cared to admit.

There were only a handful of cards that were less than ideal to see in their pull, and even then, it all depended on how they were interpreted.

So, of course, I had to pull one of those cards.

The Three of Swords.

Heartbreak. Sorrow. Grief. Hurt.

I clutched my coat tighter around me as the shop came into view and frowned. There's no emotional heartache when you're single, and my mother passed away years ago. My time for grief was long gone.

It made no sense, and I didn't like it.

The rainbow-colored Chakra chimes on the door announced my entrance, and Nick beamed at me from behind the glass case of crystals and semi-precious stones.

"There are my favorite Irish eyes," he sang as I walked towards the display case that doubled as our checkout counter.

"Says the one who has better makeup skills than I do."

He motioned as though to fling his non-existent long hair dramatically over his shoulders, and I rolled my eyes in response.

"Girl, don't give me that look," he chastised. I grinned as I walked towards the back of the store where my table was waiting. "Oh, Bonnie," he called after me.