This ain't no love that's guiding me

I couldn't make this up if I tried.

Today at work, an older gentleman approached my desk. We got to talkin', and I couldn't help myself from inquiring about his thick Southern drawl. (Afterall, a girl from Alabama must find her people in this world.)

"Where you from, sir?" I posed.

"Baby. I'm from Bowlin' Green, Kentucky!"

(And though I'm usually not a fan of being referred to as "baby," especially by complete strangers, he was at least charming about it.) This lead to a whole discussion of all things Southern, and therefore all things good. He looked down and noticed my empty left ring finger.

"Baby, you single!" (It was definitely more of a statement than a question, even though I kind of believe things like that should be approached a liiiiiiittle more cautiously.)

"Let me see your palm." A demand, this time. I held out my left palm and he shrugged it off, motioning for my right. After a brief once-over, his face lit up as he marked with pen on my hand.
"See this? It should be up here. It's not. This tells me you are a very positive person. People whose lines go all the way up are ho-hum and hum-drum. You are not. Even when you're sad, you still remain positive."

I think I may have had to blink back a couple tears. My clouded expression probably didn't help my case.

"See that? Even now, you're sad about something but it don't matter - you're still just as positive as you can be."
Another pen mark, this time in the bottom center.
"Oh, and you're a healthy girl."

I, of course, muttered something under my breath about that ending with my healthy appetite.

Mr. Kentucky then tried to bid me adieu.

"Wait!" I pleaded. "You asked to see my hand because you seemed interested in the love side of things. What does my palm say about that?"
(Really, Alison? An old man reads your palm, tells you you're healthy and positive and now you're going to seek love advice from him?)

Relunctantly, he gathered my hand in his once more.
"Baby. You ain't got no love."

There we have it. I ain't got no love.

"This here hand is always changin', just like you," he continued. "But I wouldn't really be lookin' for much of anything there for another 6 or so months."

Given the things that have gone down in the past 3 weeks, he's absolutely right. And for some bizarre reason, I actually feel better. I have a timeline. Six months. I can't even begin to understand why, but perhaps these things happen for a reason. Perhaps my heart is currently shattered for some just cause and perhaps God sent me Mr. Kentucky today as some kind of messenger of things to come.

Baby, you ain't got no love.

But I'm positive that someday, I will.