The Island of cards

In a hired hatchback, travelling around the roads of the Island of Menorca, I would begin to feel the contours of the islands. With its green fervent hills and meditative heart like claret mountains , that I dared look down upon from the academy of a futile higher education.

I had only been a witness to the steep horizons and the woolly hoods of clouds hanging over my head in my backyard.

I lived in an isolated farm house. I always yearned to do as all my old friends would do, and go to town at the weekends just for the sake of it. However, as soon as I abandoned college, the foam party crowd would ascend on their own flights of fantasy. They would go where there spiritual bass home was and return home still living in the transient trances of trippy happiness.

As a bit of a Hermit with hemi plegia , my trust in those that I would call friends was less than popular.

So when my parents bought a holiday apartment on the Island of Menorca, I was just as reluctant to go with them. However, after guarding the farm house on my own, apart from the company of our families pet cat, that would eventually pass away from a ripe old age. My time had come to live in the reality of my day dreams and accompany my Mum and Dad , for at least one week in Menorca.

You´ll love it there, Its just like stepping into the deep unknown civilisations of the past with radiant sunshine and clear blue skies, my Mum told me. Little did I know , as I do now, how much the Island and travelling around in the zippy hired hatchbacks , would change my life, in more ways than one.

So once we had taken the road that looked like an olive branch climbing up a sun bleached, stone wall. My introduction to the patchwork fields and the entrances to the port side towns, was rapidly becoming a second home coming.

One week soon turned into three weeks. With little to do , I decided to become a student of the Tarot cards. The Sun , the Moon, and the Stars. So much Temperance, but always a fear of Death , if I was travelling. The roadside signs and ancient monuments looked to me like Tarot spreads, and the tiny, comfortable hatchback, was like the spinning Wheel of fortune. I developed a Devil may care attitude. The luxury of solitude was slowly becoming a wander into my future without ever taking stock of the present. My parents seemed to always have to make an effort to repel my boredom with an excursion to somewhere unexplored on the Island.

Sometimes, we paid a visit to the lands end of the Island. A pilgrimage to the top of a mountain with a mother Mary figurine at its zenith. Sometimes we would just cruise around the smoother roads of the Island with no particular place to go. I would just look out at the expanse of the bluest sea. Tiny , shimmering, fishing boats would look like steepled palms rising up and then back down upon the lap of the sea.

If there was a day when the sun dozed upon a bed of clouds, with the temperature falling, then we would drive over potholes in the roads that looked like the hallmarks of the entire island.

I would sense, if not see the spirits of wild beasts , perhaps from the past or the future. There was an occasional fallen tree that would form a step and a gate, from which beyond a forest walk could be ventured. However, most of the time we would drive on towards our favourite eateries for tapas, or a cool drink, sheltering under a tables parasol, from the immense heat.

The days began to drag on. Studying the cards of the Tarot, seemed as if  I had to only make believe the reality to come true, in the power of the sun, whilst dwelling on this holiday Island.

I began to yearn for the break of dawn, each new day , as did my Mum. My Dad had to drive to the Islands capital city to sort out funds. We would go with him. So the little hatchback would be deposited in a sloping parking space, a catapults shot from the city´s looming ancient castle. I would go with my Mum to cafes for ensamalda pastries and steaming hot cups of creamy coffee. I still had nothing but luxury , no purpose. and nobody to read my Tarot cards for.

All I seemed to perceive were forks in the roads, like sharp strikes, and falling boulders from the heads of the Islands mountains.

In the evenings , the feeling of being on a different planet would almost push me off the edge of the earth . This is when I noticed a change in my Dads outlook. We would argue about my lack of work , their desire to live out their retirement on this Island. My mum loved the sea, but there was also sea around Britain , for which she secretly coveted. She grew up on the British coast , spending the evenings strolling the beaches. 

We would rarely travel the Island, In the hatchback, anymore. Trips out would consist of bank errands, or, perhaps, only if my Mum wanted to buy a new piece of furniture from her favourite antique shop, which was a short drive from where my dads bank was.  To combat the lengthy bouts of boredom, I would stroll around the apartments complex, checking out heavy goods vehicles that were shifting tiles and slates to new holidays builds around the Island.

However, after one sparky argument with my parents , Somehow my luck with reading those Tarot cards , was about to change.

Dwelling in a newly built apartment complex, ourselves, the sales representative for the complex was still on site. She worked and corresponded with the new apartment owners and any new clients. When we did return to the the UK, my Dad would give her, on occasion, a blank cheque. If she were to find a beautiful antiquity of reasonable value that would suit my Mums ideas for decor.

The sales representative was an English lady, in her late twenties, who had taken a job with the builders of the complex. She had settled on the Island very well and found love with a local farmer. She spoke the Islands language fluently and she had just given birth to a son. She had been to see clairvoyants before. Some of the predictions she had received had materialised with good feelings. For a small price, she had requested a Tarot reading from me, which my Dad had set up.

It was like a first day at work. I was proud and I managed to stay calm. Our usual travelling routine commenced in to the Islands capital city. However, today, because of the Tarot reading I would be giving, in the afternoon. I decided to go for the ride only. I remained inside the car , meditating with the Tarot cards. Dad would do his banking errands and Mum decided to visit her favourite furniture shop. 

I sat in the front passengers seat, which I didn´t normally do. However, my mum would be dropped off first, as the furniture shop was situated on the way into the city centre. 

Dad left me alone in the car , in our usual sloping parking space, so that I could meditate over the tarot. I could sense plenty to be cheerful about. When Dad returned to the car, I felt relaxed with the cards and looked forward to giving the reading. All we had left to do was pick mum up. 

However, for some reason the further we drove along, the further we went from the furniture shop. Dad just could not find his bearings and it felt as if the sun had taken its hat off, as we both began to sweat. However, for one hour and a half , driving around and around a medium sized roundabout , we could not find the furniture shop. The tarot card that I kept seeing in my minds eye was the Queen of Wands. 

She looked radiant with a blondish, reddish crop of hair, beside her loyal black cat. Somehow, the constant vision of the Queen of Wands was a guiding presence, despite the confusion of driving further away from where Mum was. We became so confused and lost that Dad had to return to our apartment and begin the entire road trip again. I didn´t feel panicked, more a sense that an angel of justice was judging me, by tipping the weight of my soul in the deep sea. However, despite my reading of the situation, I still felt the strong presence of the Queen of Wands throughout the journey. I saw her fly high above the silvery clouds , with a gentle breeze flowing through her blondish, reddish crop of hair. 

Eventually, after finding an advertising sign for the furniture shop, we found Mum standing outside the shop. Unfortunately, at the time , she had no cash on her, believing that Dad would soon be on his way. 

Tears were sparkling in her bluish, greenish eyes like the tide rolling into the caves of the Island. We argued for a bit. Dad promised not to leave her like that again. Still, I felt as calm as the sun setting at low tide. The Queen of wands was still flying strongly in my minds eye, but my Mum sensed something was wrong. 

When we returned home to the UK, my dad stumbled down a side street. He was rushed to hospital to have a brain scan. A benign blood clot was found on his brain and needed to be removed immediately. The blood clot effected his coordination and short term memory. However, his operation was a complete success and luck have it, he is still okay. 

We returned, as a family, several times, after the health scare, to the Island, travelling around in our small hired hatchback. 

As for the Queen of Wands, Mum was always grateful, never having to lose her crop of reddish, blondish hair. She succumbed to cancer , after Dad and her had sold their apartment in Menorca. For a brief time, Mum had her holiday home by the British seaside. 

As for the sales representative, she is still happily enjoying family life on the Island of Menorca. 

I gave up Tarot reading, but I am still a passenger, enjoying a ride around and about with my Dad, when he is driving his car.