Air and Fire

My mother asks questions of a crystal on a chain. Her pendulum. She believes the way it swings can tell her what will happen.

Front to back = yes

Side to side = no

And so on and so forth.

It's a load of crap. At least that's my lowly opinion.

She posts on her social pages. Her universe-friendly, crystal-loving friends. She says her prayer to the universe, nature, angels, what-have-you, every time she leaves the house.

I hold back an eye roll to the point of actually feeling a headache starting at the center of my forehead.

She brandishes her tarot cards, asks endlessly to "read me", and spouts off about my Zodiac destiny.

My chest feels tight with anxiety at holding back what I want to say.

I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I scream it in my mind.

She says no one understands her. Except her social media circle. Not her daughter. Never her daughter.

I sigh. I turn away so I can roll my eyes, let my disdain roar across my face without letting her see.

We get along best when we let each other be. When we let each other exist without too much interference from the other.

She is an Aquarius. I am a Leo.

She tells me we should get along better. "Leos are one of Aquarius' greatest overall compatibility signs." I can hardly stifle my groan. Because I am fire. And she is air. And every bit of her causes me to roar with rage sometimes. I can't understand it.

My mother. The Aquarius. She is every bit the Aquarius too. Progressive, independent, original. Eccentric, highly intellectual. Always right. I read once that Aquarius dislike people who disagree with them. It resonates. I can't tell her anything that goes against what she believes.

Or am I the one who doesn't listen?

Me. The Leo. I am every bit the Leo too. Creative, passionate, cheerful. But arrogant, stubborn, self-centered, and lazy. Inflexible. Am I inflexible?

She rubs me the wrong way. Always telling, never listening.

But maybe I am the one not listening. So I sit. So I try.

"Will you do my cards today, mom?" I ask. She smiles. Her face lit with pride. Her hands shake slightly as she pulls the card out of their velvet bag. She caresses them with what looks like adoration as she holds them in her wrinkled, frail hands. And I realize how much she believes in her magic.

A two card reading. She's elated. I can feel it radiate off of her.

She shuffles confidently despite the tremble that her hands always have. Splits the deck. Looks at me expectantly. I can feel the disbelief in my stomach. Disbelief for all of this. All of her. For magic, and zodiac, and tarot, and a universe that controls any of this chaos in any way whatsoever. I don't believe. I don't want to believe. I swallow it back down, force the disbelief away. Her eyes are shining. She's so happy. She wants me to believe. She wants me to care about all of these things she so genuinely believes. I try.

I pull a card. Flip it over.

First card: The Strength. The face of the card has a woman and a lion. My mother tells me the energy behind this card is about embracing compassion. The infinite, endless possibility. She tells me this card is me. The Strength card is bound to the Leo Zodiac sign. It demonstrates courage and fortitude.

Second card: The Star. The face of the card has a woman pouring water into a pool or a lake. My mother tells me the energy behind this card is about peace and tranquility. Hope for the future.

What Zodiac sign is bound to The Star card?

Aquarius.