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Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Heather...Again

It was Friday night and I stood by, waiting as they questioned the man. The night was warm, the sky was black. I had been silently praying off and on throughout the previous evening and throughout my day. She hadn't left my mind. I had never felt a burden like that before.
I took in my surroundings. The beat up cars parked several yards away. The grass, parched by the glare of the Arizona sun. A can of tuna resting on a concrete ledge, partially eaten, covered in ants. No wonder the strays were fat, I thought.
The apartments were mostly dark and quiet and a few residents ambled about. I don't remember their faces.
But I do remember her.
At first, I thought I was imagining things. I blinked a few times and peered at her. It'd be strange if it didn't end up being her, I thought to myself.
But it was.
Heather? I asked.
She looked at me, studying my face, trying to recognize.
It's me. Jen. From the other night? I said.
I was in disbelief.
Oh hi! she said, her thin arms wrapping around me as we embraced.
I couldn't believe it. Here she was, miles away from where we had first met only 24 hours earlier.
That's so funny. I came here on a whim to see my friend, she said.
I told her I was a writer at ASU. Just working on a story.
She had gone to school for a little while before everything started falling apart, she said. She wanted to be a photojournalist, maybe do something in the music scene.
I didn't press her for details. Lord, if it's meant to be, I know you'll make something happen. But I won't stop praying.
She smiled after she got my number. I didn't get hers. She doesn't have a permanent phone number. She stays in motels.

I was and still am completely dumbfounded by the experience. It further affirms in my mind that there is no such thing as a coincidence. No way. In this situation, how could there be?

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