Still thinking of the passage of years, I wonder what are
the odds that someone I knew for only a year in second grade (and haven't been in touch with at all) would pop back
into my life fifty plus years later, and halfway around the globe, and we’d turn
out to be living in the same neighborhood.
I know, this is “too improbable.”
Well, it happened to me.
Here we are in second grade. We were good friends living on
a tree-lined street in a lovely neighborhood in west Jerusalem.
And here we are a short time ago having coffee two continents away in our lovely
neighborhood café, on the west
coast of the United States, and what-da-y’know, also on a tree-lined street.
If I get another rejection to my fiction novel
where the editor says the coincidences in my story are improbable, I’d have to point to
this blog-post and add a few even more striking “improbables” from my life. I can document
them all.
Fiction has nothing on real life when it comes to the
amazing weave that is the fabric of our lives.
I’d love to hear about your improbable incidences, and no
need to call them coincidences.