Inspired by a guided meditation in Mary K. Greer’s book, ‘Tarot for Your Self,’ and for my dear friend Deidre, who said if you want to write, then write…and thank you for the lovely postcard, you are a beautiful soul.

I saw my grandmothers and Tias, I saw the colors and the ancient smoke. I saw them as laughing, bells and ambers and embers of my marrow. They sat at my dining room table, the one with the egg yolk yellow paint and the $5 solid oak table.

They said, come here mija, and I came. I sat on their laps, I smelled incense and smoke and beauty.

They said, what do you want to know?

I said, in a whisper, like a child, suddenly shy where there was boldness, am I doing enough? Is this enough?

They laughed.

The colors changing, bright reds, oranges and yellows. Fire upon fire, flashing and dancing in lightness, bending and becoming.

They said open your hand. I opened. They said lay it on mine. I laid it upon the palm. One palm of palms of palms.

They said, use this my girl, you are already doing it, it’s already enough.

I breathed out. I breathed in. I wanted something different and the truth struck me like the cord that is constantly playing in the center, the pulpy places of me.

Ok, I resigned. Ok, it’s gonna have to be enough.