Nonfiction |
Lifeline
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As Edna shuffled the Tarot cards, I glanced at Aunt Syl. She had an eager smile on her face; even her wrinkles looked a little brighter. Best friends for fifty years, these women were closer than many sisters. They did everything together and Edna’s condo was a mirror image of the home that Sylvia and Morris had lived in: shiny, foil wallpaper, but blue rather than red, a white sofa rather than a yellow one, and prints of the Buddha on the wall rather than Jewish artifacts. A baby grand piano guarded one corner—a sister to the old organ that Morris had loved so much.
“Aunt Syl, I never knew you believed in the Tarot,” I exclaimed. She was such a pragmatic woman, a hard-charging businessperson, who was ahead of her time. “Well, dear, it just never came up. Why would you know about it?” “I’ve always been a spiritual person,” Edna stated firmly. “And Sylvia always humored me. Of course I went to temple and we celebrated all of the holidays. But I never really believed in Judaism, or in Christianity for that matter.” “Edna is a Buddhist,” Aunt Syl said fondly, looking at Edna with pride. “And she’s the only one who could help me when Kenny died.” I wasn’t sure about the intersection of the Tarot with Buddhism, but I hated to break the spell. No one in the family knew the whole story. We only knew that Kenny had been shot and killed when he was only 21. Morris destroyed all the photos of his son and refused to speak his name. Sylvia cherished a tiny gold locket with Kenny’s picture and kept it carefully hidden beneath the bras in her nightstand drawer. I learned this only after we had to move her to the nursing home she so dreaded. She kissed that locket each morning and night. What a lifeline her dear friend threw her—casting the Tarot so she could reach out to her beloved only child. Edna put the cards in front of me. “I want you to think of a question. Think hard—it should be focused and important to you. When you’re ready, choose nine cards and lay them down in the order I show you.” I drew a deep breath and cleared my mind. My fingers were shaking. |
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Angie Minkin retired from a long career as an administrative law judge with the State of California and now spends her time rehabilitating her right brain. She practices yoga, takes dance classes several times a week, and loves to write poetry. She volunteers with a local non-profit that serves low-income immigrant families. Angie has two adult children and lives in San Francisco with her husband and two cats, all of whom provide inspiration. She escapes to the sun whenever possible.
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Vistas & Byways Review is the semiannual journal of fiction, nonfiction and poetry by members of Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) at San Francisco State University.
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Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at San Francisco State University (OLLI at SF State) provides communal and material support to the Vistas & Byways volunteer staff.
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