By: Gabriela Yareliz
I was sitting in court when a court staff member sat beside me. He asked me how my weekend had gone, and told me that now that I am young, I should make sure each weekend is the best weekend I ever had. I smiled politely, taking a break from my New Yorker reading, which was my entertainment as I waited to be called.
He then said, “Open your hand, and look at your palm.”
I did and gave him a skeptical glance. If this guy was expecting me to read my own palm, I was not having it.
“What do you see?” he asked.
I stared blankly into the flushed palm of my hand that had some ink stains on the side.
“Nothing,” I said, choosing to ignore the ink smudges.
“You don’t see it, but the rest of us do. You have the world in your hands. Seize it. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t.”
I smiled. The world. In my hand.
Open your hand. What do you see?