I had my first retired friend's lunch today. A former counselor who retired a few years ago and I got together for lunch and a museum visit, but it turned out to be a crazy kind of day.
When she texted me a couple of weeks ago, I was scrolling through part-time jobs and had just seen an opening for a museum docent. Not recognizing the address, I searched for the place and found The Mansion on O Street. After living here for 35 years, it's not often that I come across local attractions that I have never heard of before, but this was one.
I copied the link. "How about this place?" I texted my friend.
"Looks fun," she agreed and suggested lunch at Pizzeria Paradiso.
It had been years since I'd eaten there, but I had recently read an article about the owner and was eager to go back, and so a plan was hatched.
The two of us split a delicious salad and butternut squash pizza with goat cheese, sage, and bacon and were headed out of the restaurant and on to the museum when I heard someone call my name. I turned around and recognized a couple my sister, brother, and I were friends with 38 years ago when we lived in Virginia Beach.
We hugged, of course, and marveled at the crazy, random encounter. We did a quick catch-up, facilitated by a sprinkling of social media posts over the years, and then we promised to stay in touch and went on our way.
As we walked toward the museum, I thought of all the coincidences and chance occurrences that led to that meeting and how a few seconds on either side would have changed everything. "How often do you think that happens?" I asked my friend, "That you are within steps of people you know but never cross paths with?"
"Probably more often than you would think," she answered. "But how can you ever know?"
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