And when I opened the June/July 2003 issue of Real Simple (I know … two thousand and three!), it fell open to the personal essay pictured above, one written by my friend and author Beth Kephart. I didn’t remember seeing this before, and so I sat and read. See? I thought triumphantly to myself. This is why I need to read through these magazines. I might miss something … and I nearly did.
Two days later, I was at our local AAUW book sale. I wasn’t going to stop at the “Local Interest” table because, quite frankly, I had already purchased more than enough books. But resistance is futile at book sales, and after promising myself I would just take a “quick look,” Beth appeared again, this time in the form of her memoir Ghosts in the Garden. I picked it up immediately, knowing that my very dear friend Jini had lent her copy to a friend who never returned it. This would make a nice surprise for her, perhaps for a significant birthday coming up (which was Tuesday and the book is still sitting here, a belated gift).
I don’t know what it means, these little serendipitious moments of Beth (and, by extension, Jini). Maybe it means nothing.
Or maybe – like friendship – it means everything.
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