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.