The Gypsy and the Fortune

As Florence settled into her seat, for the onward flight to Rome, tears welled up in her eyes. Only moments earlier she had farewelled her much loved cousins, with a smile on her face, but now the extraordinary sadness emerged, as it had before in the same scenario, played out two years earlier. It amazed her, after having grown up on the other side of the world, how her heart-strings pulled. She let the tears fall, until her beloved Croatia, the shoreline of Split, and the islands below, could no longer be seen from the window.

She turned and looked ahead. Flight time was a little over an hour, a short duration, but long enough to have a snack. Florence put her hand into the seat pocket to take out the inflight magazine, to choose something to eat and drink. As she lifted the magazine out, her eye glimpsed something else behind it. There was a small black notebook. Florence wondered ‘who does this belong to?’ and upon opening it, found the pages were empty.

It was one of those lovely notebooks that Florence had often seen in bookstores in the mall at home, or in newsagencies at the airport. It was available in a range of colours, that also appealed to her, and yet this small black notebook had the most classic style of its own. Florence brought the find to the attention of the Air Steward, who looked at her with a smile and a wink, and said ‘It is meant for you. It is your good luck!’.

Florence smiled and popped her new notebook into her handbag. Her final destination for this afternoon was Barcelona and she would fill this notebook with the memories of the wonderful week ahead. The perfect travel journal, her writing companion.

Later that night, Florence sat at the writing desk in her hotel room, and looking out to La Rambla, she penned the memories of her day into her new notebook. She also jotted down the places that she wanted to see in Barcelona, and a few handy Spanish phrases.

During a quiet moment at an outdoor café, by a window at a restaurant, or back at the lounge bar at the hotel, Florence would take out her notebook and write down something special about that moment or the day. The pages began to fill. Sometimes she would write down the names of places she had visited, or a recollection of an interesting conversation with a stranger, and at other times, simply what she was grateful for. If she was feeling creative, she would draw a little image of what was in view – a fruit store on the corner, a cruise-liner leaving the port, a Gothic spire, a fashionable shoe or dress, a window displaying tapas, a glass of red wine.

It was a sunny afternoon, the day before her departure back to Australia, and Florence was sitting by the sea, enjoying an ice-cream, when a lady, of around 80 years old, sat down on the bench beside Florence.

The lady had silver grey hair, blue eyes and wore a pale blue dress with white flowers on it. She smiled at Florence, and looked out towards the sea. The lady reminded Florence of her grandmother.

Florence began thinking of her grandmother, and recalled the story of the gypsy, who had told her grandmother, who at the time was 16 years old, nine things that were going to happen in the young girl’s future. As far as Florence knew, every one of those predictions had come true, except for one. The one still to come true was that one of her grandmother’s grandchildren was going to a win a lottery. Florence thought, “when I get back home to Australia, I must buy a lotto ticket”. Florence loved that she had a close heartfelt bond with my grandmother. She thought “maybe that fortune is for me”. Florence jotted this down in her notebook, and as she closed it, the old lady in the blue dress, got up. She stepped towards Florence, stopped momentarily, smiled, and brushed Florence’s cheek gently with her hand, and then walked away. Florence smiled, put her notebook into her handbag, and sat on the bench for a few more minutes, appreciating the beauty of the harbour and held on to the feeling of the gentleness of the lady’s hand on her cheek. Then, with a sigh, Florence stood up, and took a stroll back to the hotel, cherishing the sounds and sights of this lively city. It was time to pack, time for the journey home.

Two weeks had passed since Florence had arrived home from Spain. Florence was sitting on the train, looking out the window at the Swan River, when she felt compelled to send a note to one of her new found friends, who she had met at a Paella cooking during her stay in Barcelona. Florence lifted out her notebook, where she had written Maria’s email and as she thumbed through the pages, her eyes fell on the page where she had written about the ‘old lady in the blue dress’ and the story of the gypsy and her grandmother. Florence thought “I must buy that lottery ticket today!”.

On disembarking from the train, Florence stopped into a newsagent store, and bought a lotto. She filled out the ticket with the birth days of her parents, grandparents, her sibling and her own. She thought of these as her lucky numbers. She also bought a “scratchie” lottery ticket that had ‘seashells’ on it, as it reminded her of the scallops she enjoyed in Croatia and Spain. She opened the cover of her small black notebook and inserted the tickets safely there.

That night, Florence watched the lottery draw – and disappointingly saw that her numbers were not drawn. “Oh well she thought, let’s see if I win a few dollars on the scratchie”. Taking a one euro coin out of her purse, she scratched away. There were six boxes to scratch on this ticket. The first $20,000, the third $20,000 and the last box, $20,000! Florence smiled from ear to ear, and exclaimed ‘Oh thank you dear Grandma, thankyou Universe, thank you Gypsy! It has finally come true!’. Whilst she always had an inkling that she was going to win – it still felt so surreal! Florence picked up her mobile to call her cousin in Croatia to share the good news. As the phone was ringing, Florence noticed the date – 20th March. Florence then smiled with an inner knowing, that this was meant to be - today was her Grandmother’s birthday.