The Crystal Ball

Originally posted here

By: Colleen Parise


Colleen Parise

Colleen Parise


When I picture a psychic, I picture someone dripped in jewels and scarves with a head wrap on, their hands cupping a large magic crystal ball in the center of the table, the smell of incense filling the room. Walking into my appointment with a psychic medium this past week, I was full of doubts and disbeliefs but left full of hope and a sense of calm I haven’t felt in years. I want to believe so very desperately that all of it is true, that there is another place where our loved ones who are no longer with us are able to still be with us. That when I see or hear something in my weakest moments that it is then that is my Mom comforting me with the reminder she is not truly gone.  The psychic asked me to bring photographs (I knew taking all those pictures would serve a purpose! J) so I carefully selected pictures of my Mom and I, as well as my father and I, my siblings, Lou and I, and my close friends. I walked in reminding myself to be brave and keep my reactions shielded, to not “give away” too much. As I walked up to the door, my heart was beating rapidly and booming within my chest. Thoughts rushed quickly through my mind as I reached up for the doorbell.  What if my Mom didn’t come through to me? What if I wasn’t living my life the way it was planned? Will I get my wish of becoming a mother through surrogacy? As my finger pushed down on the doorbell I realized I was more scared of what I would hear that what I may not. Walking in I almost laughed to myself as it was nothing close to what I had envisioned.  There was a smell of apple pie, children in a room down the hall laughing and playing, and the woman sitting across the reading table looked like someone I would sit across the table and have coffee with. I was no longer intimidated or scared; I was intrigued and ready to hear what was in store for me. The reading took an hour and for an hour I sat quietly, jotting down notes as tears streamed down my face. She told me things that confirmed to me that my Mom is still here, things that even my closest friends wouldn’t know. She reassured me that Lou is the one I am supposed to be with, and that we are going to make excellent parents together one day soon. I didn’t need a psychic to tell me that life is exactly as it should be, that every decision has lead me to where I am today, and that I am fully capable of handling whatever else may come my way. I just needed someone to remind me that I am doing okay. That I am making strides to fulfilling my destinies. I didn’t need someone to tell me that there are good events in store for me, but I needed reassurance. I needed hope, something to hold on to.

So, believe or don’t believe that is your choice. For numerous years of my childhood I was able to believe a flying fairy came at night to remove a tooth placed under my pillow, a giant rabbit hopped through my home while I was sleeping and left candy and hid eggs, and a large, jolly man slid down my chimney again while I am sleeping and placed gifts under a tree. Belief is a gift in itself. The possibilities are endless, and the results of your beliefs are hope. Hope and faith are good things, maybe the best of things, and once you choose hope and have faith, anything becomes possible.