The week was already a study in harmonic convergence. Oddly enough, my Seattle Bed & Breakfast was playing host only to guests from places I had lived in the past: central Pennsylvania and the Washington, DC area, to be specific. This phenomenon made for even livelier breakfast-table conversation than usual.
But it wasn’t over yet.
Today the doorbell rings as I’m flipping blueberry-oatmeal-cottage cheese pancakes for my houseful of mid-Atlantic visitors. Not expecting anyone and hoping not to burn breakfast, I hurry to the door, spatula in hand. Two ladies introduce themselves as friends of my sister (who also lives in PA) – they’re in town to judge a gymnastics meet. Surprised, I usher them in, offering coffee while saying, “let me rescue breakfast!”
Returning from the kitchen I find the new arrivals chatting happily with my B&B guests – turns out everyone in the room currently lives or once lived in central PA, which makes for a lot to talk about. Yeah, small world, blah, blah, blah. But get this: One of the judges mentions that she used to be a gym teacher. One of my guests has this “aha” moment and realizes that this woman is her long-lost gym teacher from middle school. They had to come all the way across the country to be reunited.
Okay, that’s all I’ve got. Funny little story, though, no? I was about to make some clever reference to the album Synchronicity by the Police, but my husband says that would be dating myself. Oh well. Too late.