GrowingOlderHopeWiser

Her eyes adjusted to the brightness of her new world. She stood in a field of sunflowers, taller than she was. They stood in neat rows like sentinels, and she was on a little dirt path between them. Her feet were bare, and she could feel the dirt between her toes; it was warm and soft. The subtle, earthy scent of the sunflowers reminded her of summer. A pleasant breeze caressed her face and arms. She wore a billowy dress the color of the azure sky, her hair tied up in pixie tails and ribbons. As she walked along the path, she heard the soft rustling of someone or something walking a couple of rows away. They stopped when she did. The sunflower field came to an end, and Isabel stepped onto an asphalt road wide enough for two cars. The asphalt felt hot on her bare feet. She walked along the edge of the road. Was she going or coming back? It did not seem to matter. Surely she’d be able to see who or what was following her. She looked up and down the road, and there was no one and nothing there. Soon she came to an open field with abandoned cars, rusting in the hot sun.

Glints of bouncing sunlight reflected off some of the chrome. Patches of tall weeds and wildflowers poked out here and there among the flat tires and abandoned metal rims. Isabel could taste iron dust in the air. She stepped carefully, avoiding sharp edges and rusty screws. She made her way toward a wooden shack, its sign fallen and hanging by a screw, swinging in the breeze—The All-Seeing Eye. From behind the shack, a low growl grew louder and closer. Isabel stopped dead in her tracks. The hackles on his neck stood up. Isabel was confronted with a huge Rottweiler, its eyes glassy and red, saliva dripping from its mushy mouth, its teeth bared. 

“What do you want?” the voice said, holding the Rottweiler on a leash.

To Isabel’s surprise, it was a handsome older woman, weathered by time, her arms skinny and like roadmaps of veins. Her hair was long, gray, and disheveled. She wore skinny hippie jeans and a white sleeveless T-shirt. Her arms were tanned—warm brown, leathered, and with silver bracelets going halfway up her arms. She wore a necklace of bones and colorful feathers.

“I was just walking, looking…” Isabel said. She could not remember any reason for being there.

“Well, you’re far from home, it seems; no one has come this far in a very long time.”

Isabel looked around, surveying the landscape. 

“Well, come on, don’t just stand there; I haven’t got all day!” The older woman pointed Isabel toward the shack, her arm indicating she should go inside. Stepping onto the wooden boards of the porch, Isabel got a splinter in her foot.

“You will need some shoes if you’re going to walk around here,” said the lady. 

The lady tossed her a pair of old brown boots. Isabel sat on the chair on the porch and put them on, which were slightly too big for her feet but still okay. 

Plastic baby doll parts hung like a decorative wind chime by the door—just bits and pieces, a head or two, some arms and legs. Isabel was always creeped out by dolls and was taken aback.

“I said, get a move on!” called the old lady from the darkness at the shack’s doorway. Isabel stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The windows were covered with yellowed newspapers and tape. Stacks of magazines, books, and dusty rags filled the room. Boxes held who knew what. An old Victrola sat in the corner, playing The Zombies’ “Time of the Season,” a strange, haunting ’70s song.

The old lady stepped behind a folded accordion screen and said, “Give me a minute. By the way, my name is Beth.”

“I’m Isabel.”

Isabel took in more of the room; old paintings of forest animals and flowers lined the walls. All sorts of herbs hung to dry over the kitchen counter, and above it, the only window admitted light. Glass bottles in cobalt blue, red, and verdant green lined the open shelves by the window. Beth stepped from behind the accordion screen and was no longer old or gray but a beautiful woman with amber-flame hair down to her waist. Her skin seemed to glow with a luster of its own. 

“Come sit by the table, and I’ll tell you where you’re going and where you’ve been.” 

Isabel’s feet felt clumsy and moved awkwardly in the presence of this beautiful woman. There was something mystical and surreal about Beth. The table was set with a large, thick, half-melted candle and a stack of playing cards. A cigar rested on an amber glass ashtray beside the stack, a billowy stream of blue smoke coming from its lit tip. The scent of burning tobacco, cinnamon, and citrus mingled in the room. “Has he taken any time to show you what you need to live?” the song playing in the background continued.

“We are going to play cards,” Isabel said in a timid voice.

“This is not a game; it is your life. You are at the crossroads,” said Beth

“Where are you going, and where have you been?”

“What if I would rather not know?” Isabel said. Feeling uncomfortable and unsure.

“Everyone wants to know!” “You are here, aren’t you?”

Beth took a puff of the lit cigar, sending white smoke into Isabel’s face. Isabel suppressed a cough. 

“I am not sure why I am here, and I am not sure I want to know all of this,” Isabel said.

Beth’s eyes flashed with impatience. She lit the candle and grabbed the pile of large cards, shuffling them in her hands. 

“This is you here and now. She placed the first card face up in the middle. This is you in the past, to the left. And this is you in the future. She placed it carefully to the right, in a row. On the left, the card depicted a knight lying in bed in a dark, moody room with four swords; in the middle, the Empress, seated on a throne surrounded by sunlight and flowers; and to the right, the Sun, with two figures holding hands, labeled “The Lovers.”

“The Knight represents recovery and rest; the Empress represents nurturing creativity and abundance; and your future is the Lovers, symbolizing that you have to make choices, form new partnerships that align with your values.” 

“These are all very positive cards, my dear,” said the beautiful Beth. Her amber hair glowing in the light of the candle, she said, “You’re going to be all right; you’re on the right path.”

“I must let you go on your way now. I cannot hold you here; I can only show you the way out.”