On the evening prior to our recent college visit at Michigan State, Anna and I had a what to wear conversation. Granted, on the shallow-to-deep spectrum this conversation barely registers but sometimes the matter just needs to be discussed. This particular conversation involved a decision about whether to look cute or be comfortable. Since we had packed so sparingly I wasn't sure there was a way to do both.
The primary source of concern was footwear. I was debating wearing tennis shoes since we would be going on a walking tour of campus. Tennis shoes weren't really going to enhance the cuteness of any outfit I had brought along on the trip but they would make traipsing around on foot far less tiring. Ultimately, for me, comfort won out over style. Although I had made my decision, Anna was still debating what she would do. I said, (and I quote), "Well, it isn't like you are going to see anyone you know anyway." Why this would matter, I'm not sure. But I said it.
Had I been writing a novel, this would have been a moment of foreshadowing.
The next day we arrived at the information session a little early. I was picking up literature and flitting around in my usual manner which involves unintential behaviors such as dropping things, running into people, and tripping. My family has come to expect this so they usually find ways to be as far away from me as possible. True to form, Anna and Steve were sitting down, pretending not to be with me. When I found and caught up with them, Anna commented that she thought she knew a girl in the room.
Oh right!
I thought she was kidding, picking up on my comment from the night before. But she said she was serious and pointed out a thin, dark haired girl. I couldn't help but notice that she had on cute flip-flops. As did her mother.
Oh sure, her mother opted for cute over comfort.
The presentation started and afterward we were divided into smaller groups, according to the color-coded dots on our nametags, for the walking tour. It happened that the girl Anna recognized was assigned to the same group we were. As we walked I kept trying, unsuccessfully, to read the future coed's nametag which stated both her name and hometown. Her long hair kept covering up the information despite my less than elegant attempts to see it but, I was able to catch a glimpse of her mother's nametag and noticed it said: Centennial, CO.
Really? People from Centennial, Colorado were at Michigan State on the same day, in June, for prospective student tour, that we were? What are the odds of that happening?
It goes without saying that I struck up a conversation with the woman, more out of disbelief that this had really happened than anything else. Turns out the girl and Anna had attended middle school together. They had gone to different high schools but still recognized one another from a few years ago.
So there I stood at Michigan State University, looking like a geek in my tennis shoes, talking to a woman whose daughter goes to high school a mile from my house. Again I ask, what are the odds? When I mentioned that we would be going to the University of Michigan information session the next day they said they would also.
Of course they would.
I'm not the kind of person who can have something like that happen without wondering why. I realize that I might never see those people again. I probably won't ever know why our paths crossed, why they attended an information session at a university 1500 miles away from home on the very same day we did.
But not knowing doesn't keep me from wondering. Was there a reason? Was there something happening, cosmically, behind the scenes? Something more than reminding me of the importance of wearing cute shoes, I mean.
I'll probably never know.
Likewise I'll probably never know why a few months ago when I was at the grocery store I saw Anna's 3rd grade teacher, Miss Bowman. I hadn't seen her for several years although for a time she had been an important part of our family's special occasions. When Anna sang with the Colorado Children's Chorale we invited Miss Bowman to attend concerts. She had dinner with us and participated in other family events. We lost touch after her retirement but one day there she was in the check-out line at King Soopers. We spent a good amount of time visiting and catching up before going our separate ways. And then, the very next time I went to the grocery store...there she was...in the bread isle! We hardly had anything to say, having caught up just a week earlier, except to marvel at seeing one another again.
And then...just like that....I stopped seeing her.
Weird.
I'll probably never know the reason.
But, I'm sure there is one.
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