Right Where I Needed to Be

Synchronicity is my friend. Or perhaps serendipity is my friend. Let’s look them up.

Synchronicity (n) an apparently meaningful coincidence in time of two or more similar or identical events that are causally unrelated

Serendipity (n) 1. an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident. 2. good fortune; luck: the serendipity of getting the first jobshe applied for.

Here’s the situation I want to tell you about: I’m in Barcelona, having a great time. In addition to hanging out daily with Connie, Alicia and Helle, whom I’ve known for 15 years, I am also attempting to meet up with a couple of other friends. Tony I met two years ago at a conference. He’s a robust bon vivant, whom I nicknamed the Martha Stewart of Spain. Bob is an artist and former New Yorker who’s lived for several years. He arrived five years ago to see his son, and he stayed. Illegally.

I called both of them yesterday. Spoke with Tony and set up a time when we can have lunch over the weekend. Phoned Bob and learned that his number had been reassigned. I shot off an email to mutual friends in NYC in hopes that I had transcribed the number incorrectly…but no...and no one had his new number. Oh well, this is what happens in life. People lose each other.

I left the apartment for the day, got a truly fabulous hair cut…said goodbye to my Warsaw ghetto “do,” which was the worst haircut I’ve had in 15 years. I walked and walked, ate a late lunch and decided to drop by Connie’s bookstore in the Gothic quarter. As I turned the corner from Carrer de Ferran onto Carrer d’Avinyo, I heard a very low male American voice growl “Oh…My…God!”

And there was Bob! Right in front of me…his whole handsome artist self…he lives around the corner from Connie’s store in an apartment building where Picasso and Miro lived as students. He has an art show tomorrow evening. He’s no longer illegal. His daughter and her boyfriend are visiting. He’s happier than I have ever known him to be.

Life. Ain’t it grand?