The woman who opened the door was not whom I was expecting. Her pixie size and contemporary clothes baffled me causing me to stutter over my own words. “Uhhh…. Ummm…. I’m sorry; I must have the wrong place.” I turned to leave.
“Julia, I’m Laurenn” she said. I looked over my shoulder. Her small hand reached for me, a soft smile invited me to return. “Come in won’t you? You look like…,” she hesitated a moment, her eyes over my shoulder taking in the small girl I had yet to notice. “You could use a seat and a glass of water.”
Her hand still hovered in the air. I returned to the door slowly. “How did you know my name?” I asked, not really bothered that she knew it, just curious. She threw her head back, a laugh bigger than her small frame escaped into the air.
Leveling her eyes to mine she replied, “You made an appointment with me. You gave me your name then.” My cheeks flushed in the simplicity of the truth. Not mystical power, but a freely given fact. I looked at her closely as I passed her in the hall so she could close her door. She certainly didn’t resemble a mystic. I’d only seen them on TV, but still expected a large lady with colorful clothing and a heavy turban. She had none of this. Neither was she dominated by her bust line. She was only small and quiet.
“Almost everyone is surprised by my appearance. I certainly do not match up with the stereotypes of a mystic do I? I don’t use a crystal ball either.” Her recognition of my thoughts startled me. She was starting to make me uncomfortable in my own skin. She smiled at me again, a comfortable smile that made me feel better. “The look on your face tells me you think I am reading your thoughts. I’m not. It’s simply a conversation I have had many times and find it easier to have before we start a session.”
My cheeks burned again. Without another word, she closed the door and waved for me to follow her down the hall and through the kitchen. “Just through that door is my reading room. That’s where we will talk. Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I’m going to get myself some sun tea. Would you like something?”
“A glass of water, please.” She nodded and went to the sink. I prepared myself for the heavy tapestries, lots of cloth, candles, incense and the smell I always associate with old oriental rugs. A smell that spoke of history and manual labor. Rather, I found myself in a four seasons room. Sunlight laid lazily on the deep seat of the chaise and wing backed chair. A round walnut table sat between them. The floor tiles were terra cotta. Flowering plants took up space in the corners. A large fan swirled the air in the room, making it very comfortable. I sat on the chaise, hands folded in my lap, my knees thanking me for shifting the weight, and waited.
Hidden behind the plants in her cozy corner, the butterfly-chasing girl peeked at me. Her body posed just as mine sat still in a rocker. A deck of cards sat next to her on a TV dinner tray.
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