When Lives Collide

Not so much a collision course. More like synchronicity. That’s the way my mother puts it. Things happen. Exactly the way they should. When they should. We have to allow. Should the circumstances prevail, which lots of times they do.

At 18 years young I took off to travel Europe. First London, then Paris. Many more after that with the Eurail Pass. My landing strip with time was the Greek Isles.

I digress. The journey began with me alone. Along the way I would find help. Here and there. But for most of the time, it was me.

It happened one day, in the midst of a day of loneliness, I’d decided while in Paris to stroll to the Louvre. All of a sudden I hear my name. She stood before me. A neighbourhood childhood play pal from two doors down. Wow.

We embrace. We hang out. We laugh. Time rolls on. Eventually we carry on our separate ways. Me? I was elated. It was exactly what I needed. To hook up with someone familiar, in a culture completely unknown to me.

We carry through life our thoughts. Our conscious. The dreams for tomorrow.

Instinctively we do what we think is right. What we should do. Because. Like a stream flowing downstream, our destinies unfold.

People come and go. Each with a purpose. All with a reason. Some for a while, others for a little.

We have to allow. 
For these lives to collide.