Two weeks ago today was the last day of my Portland vacation. My mom and I spent the day at coast (in Oregon it’s not the shore or the beach). As we drove west on highway 26 in my dad’s zippy (and fuel efficient) little sedan, we talked and enjoyed being in each other’s physical company. About 25 minutes into the drive we stopped at the one state-run rest stop on that stretch of road. As I came out of my stall and walked to the sink, I noticed a young woman washing her hands and chatting with a couple of friends.
Now, I haven’t lived in Oregon in four years, and I was really hardly there during college, which means it’s been more than eight years now. So I don’t know many people in that area anymore.
But wouldn’t you know, I happened to stop at a coastal rest stop at the same moment, on the same day as a friend from high school! It was such a kick. I believe in the principle that there are no accidents, that there is some reason, no matter how mundane, behind ever synchronicitious experience. I haven’t figured out why I ran into Vasiliki, maybe it was just for the fun and the story. That may just be enough.