My Magic 8 Ball sits on my shelf, the desolate shelf that I cleared last summer in preparation that I would actually do something when I got back from France. It sits there along with one framed picture of my childhood. The little blue die inside is slightly battered, white where it's hit the circular window over the years, always popping up to answer my question.
When I was younger, I'd ask, "Does so-and-so like me?" I can't say my questions have gotten much better over the years. This morning, I asked, "Will today be a good day?" Yesterday, I asked, "Will there be a lot of baths today?" The day before, I asked, "Will my schedule be changed again today?"
As a Freshman in high school, we had daily announcements by the principal and every day, he'd end with, "You can make it a great day or not... the choice is yours." The choice was mine. I never made that choice.
Nowadays, my Magic 8 Ball makes the choice for me. It tells me yes or no, a good day or not. If it tells me it can't make a decision, I shake it again. The poor, battered die. For years it has answered my questions, and for years, it has been right. Or perhaps it hasn't been. Perhaps it tells me, I believe it, and because I believe it, it's right.
Magic 8 Ball, you will always be right.
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