It's a Small World

I run into people. It’s just something I do. Today, I ran into a friend of mine who now works in a building a half block away. Monday I ran into 3 people I used to work with at the Bank of Opportunity. One on the train on the way to work in the morning and the other two in my neighborhood that night.

Those examples might not be so mind-blowing. After all, the one guy does ride the same train as me to work. The one girl does live a couple blocks away. But I’ve run into people in stranger places. I’ve gone to plays only to find an old friend I hadn’t seen in years sitting in my seat. I used to run into a guy I knew who lived in Anchorage on the streets of Berkeley all the time. I’ve been sitting on the steps of Santa Croce in Florence writing in my journal only to look up and see a friend from college walking by. I’ve returned to my hostel after a long rainy day of seeing sights in Istanbul only to find two friends staying in my same room.

And those are just a handful of examples.

I run into people. It’s just something I do. I’ve long ago come to accept it as a natural occurrence. Running into someone like that always leaves me with a sense of feeling really in touch with the universe. Yes, I know, I’ve lived in Northern California too long, but seriously, I always feel like in that moment I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Think of all the little tiny decisions that could have prevented any of those accidental brushes with friends. I usually spend my lunch at my desk, but today I went outside to read instead. I happened to look up just as my friend walked by. I happened to sit right where I would see her when she walked by. She happened to take just that route, to decide to go to that coffee shop on her break, to take her break at that exact time.

I suppose in any random system like life, occasionally running into people is inevitable. I’ll even allow that anomalies are statistically inevitable. That people will exist, such as myself, who experience it more than others. I understand all this, and yet, I still can’t help but think I’m somehow more connected to people, or more open to things. I can’t help but think I’m somehow responsible.

Maybe not. Maybe it’s just me trying to feel special. We’ll see. Maybe I’ll run into you someday. After all, it’s something I do.