Calling Cards

My aunt called me this morning to let me know the cards had called to her.

I don’t have a set of my own tarot cards but she does and she has had the same set for 50 years. She describes this specific set of cards as being attached to her psyche.

I don’t know if I believe in the power of tarot but I do absolutely believe in the power of my aunt and the otherworldly forces that surround us every day. I like to think when I am writing about my grandmother that she is sitting beside me reading over my shoulder. 

After I have written I always read my words aloud. I don’t know if I use this as a powerful editing tool or if my will is to broadcast it to the roomful of people I hope to be with me.

Anyway back to the cards, on her first pull, she chose the 8 of swords and on her second pull, she chose again the same card. 

“The cards wanted to emphasis this,” she says. “ It’s a deck of 50 why else would I pull the same card twice?”

The funny thing is that I don’t know tarot but I know this card. I have written before about the two of swords that was pulled during a writing exercise and I equate the 8 of swords to be her younger sister. 

Doubting of choice, voicelessness, feeling restricted. This is what the card represents.

If I were to die tomorrow this is the card that the coroner would pull out of my belly. It would be nestled there in my twisted insides right below my stomach. 

This card is a gunshot wound that I do not remember receiving and the bullet has never been removed.

IN PROGRESS