I didn’t feel a particular need for a reading. I didn’t want a message or need guidance, but I heard so many stories about Sherry Lee’s pre-science that I had to try her out. Her reading room is austere. A little couch for the client sits low enough that I found myself perching on the edge. Sherry Lee sat on a straight-backed chair behind a small table with a blank sheet of paper and artist’s crayons. She talked fast and started as soon as I was seated. “I have a young man here. Tall. Dark hair. Nice-looking young man. He has, what’s that? Oh. He has a straw in his mouth. A piece of hay, and he’s chewing on it. He’s leaning against a tree, very relaxed. Do you know who that might be?” No. As she spoke, she was furiously drawing lines and dates on the paper. She said that in July 1997 I started something new. In February 1998 I finished a phase of my life. I didn’t know what she meant. August was a big change, monumental, she said. That was right. I’d moved to Wisconsin.
