Lines of destiny.

The Speech Language Therapist  looked at my hands the other day and said, “You’ve had a lot of worries in your life.”

As she said these particular words, she held onto my fingers with one hand and stroked the palm with the other.

And I looked at her and in some (not all, of course, but some) and coolly replied, “Oh? Really? How do you know that?”

“You’ve got very rough hands. You’ve worked a lot. That means that you must have had to go through some rough times in your life.”

And I smiled and told her how true it was.

Then to completely negate my beliefs in palm-reading, she turns my hand sideways and then proclaims that I’m going to be married and I will have one kid.

On the tip of my tongue was what usually comes out of a bull’s rear end but of course, being the diplomat I am, I enquired, “Oh really? Is that so?”

And she proceeded to explain to me how that’s possible.

After a brief discussion on that, I came to the conclusion that palm-reading tells of the things in the past. It may be able to predict the future but it mostly tells things of the past. You then draw conclusions from the past to tell the future. As time unfolds, more lines will form in your hands and thus, any palm reader can pick up your hand and tell of what you’ve been through, stunning you in the process and then enabling them to tell all the conclusions they want about your future to your utter gullibility.

I believe that there is a hint of truth in it. To be perfectly honest, I have worked my guts out. I’ve picked up animal fats out of drains, hauled crates of meat, carried tubs of mince, packed and worked my hands to the point where they cracked and looked absolutely horrific, carried garbage, pumped fuel, handled cash, served customers, took customer backlash, cleaned out food cabinets with bucket after bucket of hot water and then walked home at 11.30pm at night. 8am lectures the next day. Like I bothered to go. +D

But then again, I’ve always had rough hands. Even as a boy, my parents would comment on how rough my hands were. All the better for the future manual labour I would have had to do, I would say.

But then again, I don’t regret working my arse off to some extent. Living it tough, roughing it, it made it all worth it in the end somehow. Even after being caught, it was fun all the same. All I needed to do was get out of there.

I guess it all came down to some kind of life experience, perhaps. That maybe one day, I’ll sit down that little kid of mine that I might possibly have in the future and tell him of the times that Papa had to survive and pull through not because he had to but because he wanted to. And I’ll ruffle that kid’s hair and tell my little stories.

So who knows, in the upcoming future, my life might change. There may be a line on my hand that says that I will get married but in the end,  I can choose whether to change that line or not. A lot of people get married and a lot of people don’t. Its still up to the individual to make that decision, I would think, rather than a random line on your hand.

Another line says that I’ll have one kid. It might not be mine. It might be adopted. It might even be a step kid. Or not even mine. Someone else’s. That kid might look up to me as an uncle and I’ll sit that kid on my lap and tell him my stories.

Hah. I sound like an old man rocking in his rocking chair whom children would gather around and I’ll tell tall tales to all of them.

***

Work was tiring today. I kept snoozing in between writing notes.

Bleh.