Coffee grounds

When I read about reading coffee grounds in Salt Houses,  it jarred my memory of sitting in a restaurant in the middle of Damascus.

The year was 2000, long before the Civil War did such damage to that beautiful country.

We were in the old city. My hostess, Auntie Leila had invited me along with two of her friends since forever.

The restaurant was a converted house going back centuries. We were in the old courtyard. In the center a fountain sang a soft melody.

Although my Arabic was limited to very few words, they had enough English that we could share as women who, despite very different backgrounds, understood each other at a caring level.

"Let me read your coffee grounds," one of Leila's friends said.

I finished my coffee. She took the saucer and put it over the cup before turning it upside down. The grounds shining on the saucer resembled black, bumpy chocolate.

She stared at them. "You will have a happy life. You will meet the man of your dreams and live happily ever after."

"I hope not," I thought for the second part. I already had a very happy life and didn't have a man of my dreams nor did I want one.

Of course, I thanked her.

I saw the ladies on other visits -- me to Damascus, them to Paris and Switzerland. Than the war limited our contacts.

I forgot the prediction until today in bed reading. The man I adore was next to me and our dog had snuggled between us. A cup of tea was on the night stand.

I couldn't say I had dreamed of him, but when he walked back into my life after some 24 years, it was magic. He took my very happy life and made it happier, a dream.

Maybe the coffee grounds knew more than I did back then.