The really outgoing and awesome girlfriend of one of my college friends quickly approached me and introduced herself. She didn't really know anyone at the wedding, and within two minutes of talking to her, I felt like we had been friends for years. As I instructed the bartender on my martini preferences (more dry than sweet), my new friend, Christina, was suddenly engrossed in conversation with a short, soft-spoken older woman standing next to her at the bar. My martini arrived, and I was scanning the room for who I should talk to next when Christina quickly turned to me, her eyes huge. She grabbed my arm and mouthed, "you HAVE to talk to this lady." Shaking her head, she turned back to the older woman and bent down so the woman could speak directly into her ear. I learned later that the woman's name was Beverly Kay. She was a friend of the bride's parents. And she lived in the town I grew up in. It was eerie already.
Christina and Beverly began writing numbers on a piece of paper, and I realized this woman was a psychic of some kind. Immediately, I was skeptical. I find astrology very intriguing, but "psychics" were a little much. Over the next few minutes, I caught bits and pieces of what Beverly had to say to Christina, but more importantly, it was impossible to ignore Christina's reaction. At the end of her reading, Christina grabbed my arm and pushed me over to Beverly. Talk to her. You HAVE to talk to her. Come find me when you're done, and she walked away dumbfounded.Beverly introduced herself to me and immediately told me to write down my birthday month and day. I liked where this started. Those who know me, know how proud of my birthday I am and that I take every opportunity to talk about how it was the coolest possible day to be born that year. Clearly, Beverly was my kind of lady. As I wrote down the 8 and the 3, it was Beverly's turn to grab MY arm. I've been doing this, in one fashion or another, since I was 5 years old, she whispered. And in all my years, I have only met four other people with my birthday. You're the fifth. She quickly began writing down numbers and muttering under her breath. She told me how she knew these numbers inside and out because they were her numbers too. You're witty and animated. Your friends think you're funny and you like to own a room. But sometimes you go too far and put your foot in your mouth. Then, you're confused when no one thinks it's funny. Ummm... yep, that's accurate. Go on Beverly, you have my attention.
She next instructed me to write down my birth year: 1983 (it's worth noting that this was NOT also her birth year). Again, she jumped in with a flurry of numbers and muttering. Her eyes poured into the cocktail napkin in front of us. Suddenly, she stopped and looked up at me. She cocked her head to the side and a small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.
So when are you going to start writing those books?
I recoiled like I had been punched in the stomach. Chills from head to toe, and my eyes immediately filled with tears. Christina, who had been watching me from across the room, undoubtedly anticipating this reaction, was by my side in a second. All I could do was shake my head. Beverly waited patiently (she clearly got this response often). I took a deep breath and stepped toward her again. You're very talented. This is going to be a great year for you, but you need to get started now. Don't wait.
...And with that, I let someone else have a turn. I had heard all I needed to hear. It's funny... out of all the things a psychic could have told me, that was the one that went straight to my soul. Interestingly, however, it's not the thing I would have asked about, given the chance. I suppose I have to believe she probably knew that too. Actually, I don't "have" to believe anything. Which is why it doesn't matter to me whether Beverly is a mind-reader, a really good mathematician, or just a lucky guesser.
What matters is, she was right.
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