Fire Island Scribbles -3-

The given name is Valdete. It sounds like “revenge” in some Eastern European language. Maybe because it’s close to the word Vendetta and Vendetta sounds like an evil character in a Russian cartoon.

Contrary to how it sounds, Valdete means “sea waves” in not my language, but a language my mother had a slight passing interest for around the time I was conceived and very shortly after I was born. The interest passed but the name stayed. This is about all I am going to say about that…. that, and that my mother is a very good woman despite her impulsive name-giving moment and the logic behind it.

This is a quick diary entry to serve my memory in the future. Last night I prayed for signs. I needed an answer to something that I cannot write here. But since this is for my memory, I will write it here for me in codes, so that when I come back to it in the future I would have hints as to what I was talking about. But you, the reader who should not be reading this, will not have a clue. Here are the codes, or hints, to my sign-searching cause:

1. A dream of an old broken wooden Dhow on the rocky sun-scorched sand by the sea (the omen that caused everything to start);
2. The unfailing rattle of a persevering boxy old Pearl brand Air-conditioner (the usual mood of the setting);
3. The slam of a passenger’s side car door, as firm and as clear-cut as an already-made decision (what is a constant in all the scenarios of that which I am asking about, or assembling cues for).

*** Note to self and to the oblivious reader: the car door slam is not deafening, it is just a regular slam signifying the hurried entering/exiting of a car and not to express any particular emotion. Except for, probably, adrenaline. ***

These 3 things are surely enough to remind me (and only me) in the future of exactly the thing I was asking God and the universe and any bigger larger power to send me a sign for. These 3 thoughts could have occurred to anybody as intimations of other memories. They are probably “eventualizing” in anybody’s chunk of a brain as I write this, creating webs that dim and spark according to mood. But the same thoughts, although the same, will never unravel for anybody in the way they unfurled for me.

So, then, last night I prayed for signs (why are the best thoughts never straightforward!?). I prayed for signs and in the morning my signs and cues were there just as I prayed the night before, or I had only just started noticing them, or I had only imagined that there were signs because I wanted there to be so I made them to be… Whichever the case, here were my signs in the span of 3 hours (I set a timer for 3 hours in which I was allowed to brood over and search for justifications – I mean, signs);

• Someone posted a story with the words TAKE THE RISK across a white background.
• I spotted 3 deers huddled by a bike rack, looking to the direction of the ocean.
• I tripped over precisely 3 steps at the market.
• A neighbour turned to someone he was leaving behind at home, shouting, “You’ll only know when you get there, John! JUST GO!”, as he rode away on his bicycle.
• A torn page from an old magazine of a Halstead ad that said: “Our Agents of Change Will Move You” was used to wrap a bunch of fresh chives at the market.
• My eyes caught the electric blue clock’s digits against their warm orange light on the Miele oven door, as the last digit of the minute flashed to 3:33. Simultaneously, I locked my eyes with my eyes through my reflection on the glossy door. (HAHA!!! I know, I am fully aware of how pathetic… lol! But I was looking for signs, which in itself throws the stepping stone towards a world of self-consolatory props right by my tiny feet).
• That same insta story came up again, it always showed up on my NewsFeed with the words ‘TAKE THE RISK’ in bold black letters and strong font. Full-stopped at the end. As if there is no choice but to take the risk! As if all other posts were posted to lead to just this one.

Still, there as a half hour left to my 3 hour time limit of sign-searching. So I kept looking, darting my eyes here and there as I pretended to live normally an only – woopsy daisy – come across a sign by chance.

• I spotted 3 ladybugs on the kitchen counter. Now that was the only unusual sign so far!

And when I found no more signs within the last 5 minutes of the sign-searching deadline,

• I closed my eyes and opened the novel I was reading to a random page and my eyes fell on the statement: Everything will change.

I do not need any more signs by the last 3 minutes of the 3 hour limit. So I am taking the risk. After all, when one asks for signs for an action to be or not to be taken, a choice to be or not to be made, isn’t there always a risk involved?

For the third time, I will take the risk. 3 ladybugs. 3 deers. 3:33. I will probably choose to take the risk at around an auspicious time such as 3:33. Or is 3:33 ominous? Perhaps 2:57 is safer.

Of course, I know that I am not taking the risk because of the signs. The signs were there because I was going to take the risk anyway. They were there for me to untwist, to flatten. Next time I won’t pray for signs. I will just put them there.

A day in the life of Valdete is not this, this is just 3 hours in her head. In my head. Or, to be precise, it is 2 hours and 57 minutes. Come to think of it, my father told me I was born on exactly 14:57. I did not put a stopwatch for sign-searching to strictly take place within such a significant numerical number! I did not see any connection until I write this now now now. Do you not also see the Wow-ness? The oddity? (This is hilarious at this point, but I mean, I AM looking for signs!).

Or actually, the likelihood. The likelihood that some numbers stick to us more than others – some people, some dreams, some incidents – and they all give us reason to do the small things we do daily.

People look for signs, and then they say life is all a matter of choice. Isn’t it funny?

August 30th, 2019

Based on such unstable grounds, I decided that I choose it to be that 3 is certainly not a crowd, nor is it an ominous number. The subconscious intention of my eyes stopping at 2 hours 57 minutes today, or the fact that the time 14:57 was assigned for my arrival to earth, only a gentle exciting reminder that the end of 3 hours is coming, or the more exemplary time of 15:00 (3:00 p.m.) will be announced. Just as it always was. It is kinder to the ear to round off numbers.

Apart from all these whirlpool of justifications… my conclusion is: I am definitely taking the risk. It will colour my memory well in the future if I end up taking a risk now for the 3rd, and not necessarily the last, time.

Yours (not) truly,

Valdete (the given name to you) ❤

_{Beisan A. Alshafei}

_{September 4th, 2019}