I've been trying to spend as much time on the bike paths and riversides as possible, finding that it's good for my sanity. There's a particular spot that I make a habit of visiting on my early morning ride. I've spotted a mink there a few times in the last year and there's always the hope that if I'm discreet enough, it’ll scuttle by and improve my day.
A few mornings ago there was the usual paucity of semiaquatic mustelids, but I noticed a fortune cookie paper caught in the overgrown grasses. Going out for dinner with my family in the late-’80s would invariably be for pizza or Western-style Chinese food, so fortune cookies have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. In fact, I recall the point in time that I realized that this soothsaying dessert was actually synonymous with Chinese restaurants specifically, and not restaurants ubiquitously. The fortune cookie might have given Chinese a slight edge over pizza as a kid, but it also completely skewed my understanding of the word "fortune". I think “random statement cookie”, “advice cookie” or “utter nonsense cookie” would all be more accurate.
My heart brimmed with nostalgia as I knelt down to retrieve the paper. Would it be advice, such as, “Listen to your heart, it will not lead you astray”? Or perhaps ancient words of wisdom, like, “We have two lives, and the second begins when we realize we only have one". It could be an erroneous declaration, maybe, “You are greatly admired for your carpentry skills", something cryptic, like, “To perceive thoughts as they arise is a stratagem of spectral consciousness", or a literary blunder, such as, “Your current love interest is your density”.
I rose and beheld my fortune: “100% COTTON / MADE IN BANGLADESH / COLD WATER WASH / TUMBLE DRY LOW.” Fuck. Life remains as perplexing as ever. The mink had slipped up onto the shore, and it was laughing at me.
