I don't believe in coincidences. No, I believe that things happen for a reason and that's why I still have the spooks thinking about what happened to me on the tube today.
I was heading home on the Bakerloo line from Lillywhites in Piccadilly Circus after buying a couple of squash rackets for me and John (and a tennis racket for myself). Earlier that morning, he'd told me we should play squash at his gym sometime and though my mind briefly shot back to my hopelessness during a semester of squash at Mount Holyoke (taught by a stern, 60-something, butch woman who shook her head at me in disgust class after class), I agreed.
And who should get on at Oxford Circus and sit directly across from me than my squash partner from that dreaded gym class at Mount Holyoke. As soon as she sat down, I glanced up and thought to myself, 'She looks so familiar ... like my squash partner from MHC.' But there was no way; especially since I had two squash rackets underneath my feet, it'd be too much of a coincidence. I didn't want to stare, but as I glanced up again, I noticed the unmistakable MHC class ring - same as mine. So I leaned over and asked if she went to Mount Holyoke and she instantly remembered my name, as I did hers. She's been in London for four years now after finishing a degree at LSE and we traded stories for a bit before she got off at Paddington.
It was great to have this "chance" encounter with an MHC alum, but it also reminded me of what a small world it is - and how incredible it is to be at exactly the right place at the right time to see someone you once thought you'd never see again. I sure miss that place in the photo above.
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