i had my fortune told at a party last night. she said i would live on the coast of maine, in a seaside house filled with family photographs and white roses. my husband will be a fisherman she said, and i will bring him sandwiches and we'll sit on the docks and have lunch together, our feet dangling over the edge. lots of dogs, and she paused, smiled. mutts, all of them, at least four, pound dogs, ugly and sweet and their hair everywhere. and lots of kids, big family. she laughed. you only have one bathroom, and all the time there is someone pounding on the door, there's no privacy but you don't need it, you all take baths together, a big old porcelin tub, dinner is a madhouse, milk spilled on the table, dogs bumping against the chairs. you are a writer, she said, or... and a pause, or you own a bookstore. yes, a used bookstore and maybe a cafe. you are frustrated because you don't have any time to yourself, it's hard to find a private, quiet moment, but at the same time, you love it, you love your family and the bustle and the noise. oh yes, she said, you love it, and your hair is long and your kids are wild and creative, but you know how to keep them under control when you need to. your house is so personal, she said, and her voice was full of admiration, everything in it is something you love, seashells and momentos. a big garden in the back. lots of books. i see you reading by the water. lots of drawings, sketches, maybe you have a room for art, and you love your husband madly, isn't that right?
and i could only nod and smile, yes. yes yes, that's right.