Do you believe in fate? Maybe you think even asking the question is absurd. Part of me agrees. Life just happens, right?

There doesn’t appear to be much rhyme or reason to the things that happen. Whether examined through a personal or global lens, it all feels random. Chaotic, even. Yet, there a times when the pieces fall precisely together. Incredibly unlikely circumstances align to create perfect moments. Almost like they were destined to be.

The Man

We didn’t live in the same city or have the same interests. We didn’t know any of the same people or enjoy the same places. The chances of us ever crossing paths was minute. Cross they did. We met at an event that he attended as a professional commitment and I was drawn to for ethical reasons. Here’s the thing, he was handsome & broody, but speaking another language. Not literally; we just weren’t on the same page at all. Still, I was intrigued. I wanted to keep listening to all the things that wouldn’t normally interest me. Alas, someone wanted to introduce me to an editor and blah, blah, blah. The moment passed, along with any chance of seeing the enigmatic stranger again. Or so I thought. Three days later I was cc’d on an email that I spent 5 seconds on before it landed in my trash box. Luckily for me someone else on the recipients list paid more attention. His ensuing email led to a steamy romance and an enduring friendship. Now that strange man is an integral part of life. Almost like it was meant to be.

The Finances

At various points in my life I have experienced weird financial luck. Sometimes tiny and sometimes more significant. I have found myself short of the funds needed for something specific. Then out of nowhere I will receive money that I had no expectation of. An out of blue tax rebate, holiday pay that I wasn’t even aware I was due, unpaid invoice is suddenly satisfied. A last minute monetary reprieve. This might sound fanciful or even just plain stupid, but I’ve always had this thought that perhaps someone or something was looking out for me.

The Job

I had just graduated. I took on full time hours in the call centre I had been working evenings in. Three weeks in, I was losing my mind. 12hr shifts that were actually 13hrs (they didn’t pay me for the legally required breaks), customers who either wanted to fight about their bill or ask me to describe the films on the adult channels. Oh and managers who were trained by some sort of despot. However, the rent needed to be paid. So, I found myself applying for every job under the sun and accepting the first one that was remotely suitable. The first few weeks I thought I had leaped out of the pan and into the fire. It was so boring. The most mundane, repetitive office job imaginable. My manager was an overly religious ogre. It was dire. Then some fellow new starts hit the floor and things started looking up. We clicked immediately. They were all in similar positions, just graduated or in need of stop gap employment. Suddenly there’s laughter, common ground and epic nights out. They made that job bearable and that job gave me the impetus to do what I really wanted to do. I began to seek out writing jobs. I put myself out there and started to get small jobs. It was the beginning of my career. Had I not found myself in such an employment dead end I may not have summoned the bravery to go for it. Who knows what twist of fate brought us all together in that godforsaken retail park, but I’m grateful. 20 odd years later they’re all still in my life. We’ve formed deep & wonderful friendships. Feels to me that we were meant to meet.

The Flower

I have always liked white flowers. They’re fresh and pretty. In the aftermath of my first miscarriage I took a walk in the park by my flat. I needed some time alone to think and feel. As I sat by the river a whole bunch of white flowers drifted past. I don’t know how they came to be there, they were fresh cut flowers. Whatever the reason they felt significant. Since then white flowers have been a presence in my life. I’ll see them in the wild in moments when I need comfort. I saw an arrangement at the nurses station when I was admitted after my third miscarriage and a white rose motif in a stained glass window at the clinic I attended for tests to ascertain the reason for my recurrent losses. White flowers just turn up, serendipitously, a sign that my little ones are somewhere.