Caught up with three old friends that I lost touch with over the past year today; it’s funny how easily months without news from them slipped by, unnoticed and unmarked. Then we connected and it was old times again.

A more interesting corollary to the reach-out-and-just-say-hi vignette was that I only called two of them. While on the phone with the second, a third friend, who I hadn’t thought about phoning today, yet missed, suddenly returned a message left in August.
If I believed in such phenomena I might consider that sudden callback a coincidence, but I don’t. Nearly everything happens for a reason–in fiction and in life.

Two more scenes wrote themselves. Several occasions I wondered why that happened again. Why for once instead of scrapping around like a dog for ideas or plot points, the problem was keeping pace with the stream hitting the page. But I banished those thoughts quickly, right as they surfaced. The less energy invested in questions without any answers–at least revelations I’m perhaps not ready for–the better.

I’m letting this wave carry me until she breaks against the sandy shoal.