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One that strikes me everyday- the random chance of meeting my husband. There was definitely something otherworldly about it, for lack of a better description.
September 9th, 1989. I wasnt supposed to go, but was talked into going out with some friends for a beer after work. I saw this guy. This average kind-faced guy. I could not take my eyes off him. It was an amazingly strong tug. The only way to put it is that I recognized him. (insert mystical music here) So the crossroads is, do I go talk to him?(chatting up men in bars is not my M.O.) Finally with the encouragement of my friend, and a shot of tequilla, What the hell!, I asked him his name. Bang. Like being hit by a truck. Everything he told me about himself, it was like I already knew it. We were talking marriage within 24 hours. With the exception of the supportive friend that saw the meeting go down, everyone else was worried about my uncharacteristic impulsiveness. But it was so clear. No fear. Hitched two months after meeting and still good almost 13 years later.
I wasnt supposed to be there, he was traveling through town. Had I not talked to him, I would have never seen him again. I would have missed it. Strange and wonderful.
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