So yesterday I dug out my old tarot deck, dusted it off real good. Been years since I touched these cards honestly. Figured I’d try pulling the Six of Cups specifically ’cause that childhood nostalgia card always gives me weird feelings.
First thing, I cleared my tiny kitchen table – shoved last night’s pizza box onto the floor. Lit this cheap vanilla candle I found in the back of my cupboard. Kinda smelled like birthday cake but whatever. Took like five minutes just finding a clean spot to lay out my purple silk scarf. Real professional setup right?
The Pulling Part
Shuffled those cards till my thumbs got sore. Kept thinking real hard about my old neighborhood growing up – that rusty swing set, Mrs. Henderson’s dachshund that bit my ankle once. When I finally spread the cards face down? My hand just kinda hovered over one like it was magnetized. Flipped it over and bam! There’s the Six of Cups staring back at me with them two kids sharing flowers. Felt like someone dumped ice down my shirt.
- Immediate reaction: Got this ache behind my ribs seeing that card. Suddenly remembered my sister stealing my Barbie’s head in ’98
- Weird detail: My stupid candle started flickering crazy right then even though no windows were open
- Physical stuff: Hands got all sweaty holding the card. Cardstock edges went soft like it got dunked in tea
What Actually Happened After
Sat there staring until my butt went numb. Then I dug through my junk drawer found this faded photo of me and Dad fishing – totally forgot that existed. Called my older brother blubbering about that time we built a treehouse and it collapsed after five minutes. He just sighed and said “You drunk again?”
Whole experience felt like emotional time travel. Kept finding old stuff everywhere – ticket stubs in books, elementary report cards behind my dresser. Spent three hours down memory lane instead of doing laundry like I planned. Card basically sucker-punched me with childhood stuff I thought I’d buried.
Moral of the story? Sometimes dusty cardboard rectangles mess you up worse than therapy. Still finding sand in my pockets from that fishing photo.
