Witches Mag, Issue #5: Time

Clairvoyant Monica and the mystery of major...

For my twenty-seventh birthday, I go for my first and only palm reading. Clairvoyant Monica instructs me to make two wishes in my head.

“Do not share them with me at any point,” she says. “When you’re done, state your full name and turn over your hands to me.”

I make my wishes and I obey. Her immediate remarks, verbatim, are: “Taylor, you’ve been here before. You’ve lived 2 to 3 major lives and a lot of minor ones. And in every one of these lives, you were some kind of healer.” I feel a tingle travel over my extremities.

The wishes I made before surrendering my palms were all too specific. On any other day, I might have wished for Pabllo Vittar to fall in love with me, or for a large sum of money with which I would move to Brazil and buy a property on the coast in Bahia. And yet, effortlessly my wishes came to me: (1) That my school community be protected (2) That everyone in my family be healed This was in August 2019, the month I started graduate school, and a whole eight months before the coronavirus pandemic would sweep the world like wildfire.

For the past 2 years, whether I was teaching in the brick-andmortar classroom, or suspended in online space with my students, I knew deep down that they would be protected by my wishes. When my mother contracted COVID-19 and her cardiac physician managed to get her an antibody transfusion, it felt like a miracle to me. She was healed. *** The time I spent teaching during the COVID-19 pandemic has 93