They came into our lives sometime when I was in the first or second grade. I don't recall when we started going to church, but suddenly we were involved in a friendship with the Priebe family. The "we" was my mother, my father and me. Mr. Priebe was the minister (also called a priest in the Episcopal church) at St. John's Episcopal church. He and his wife Miriam, resided in the parish house, next to the church, with their son, also named Charles, and their daughter Lois. Charles was in my grade. Lois was younger; a tiny little girl with very blonde hair and a big smile. I don't have a picture of her as a child, but I can see her in my mind as clear as a bell.
Approximately fifty years had passed when I decided to poke around the Internet to see what I could find out about these people who brought sunshine into my life so long ago. It took a little while but I finally found a poem that Miriam had written. Included was her winter and summer address. I was hesitantly excited. Thinking the address was probably outdated, I wrote a letter and sent it off with hope. Would they even remember my parents, let alone me? Their lives had probably brought them into contact with literally thousands of people. After while the faces and places are bound to all run in together I would imagine. When they left St. John's, as far as I knew, they were going to Wilmington, DE. Charles and I wrote a few times but given our ages and writing abilities, that promise we made to each other soon faded into oblivion. Yes, we had promised to write and never forget each other because some day we'd grow up and marry, so I thought. He said he loved me and that was proof enough for me, the worldly wise eight year old, that his intentions were honorable. In addition, he was the minister's son after all; anything he said would have to be sincere. On May Day when we were in third grade I believe, he hiked up our hill, knocked on the door, left the little bouquet of flowers and ran. My job, as I understood it, was to catch him and kiss him. Running down hill is harder than running up hill actually. He had a lot of momentum although he was trying his best to be caught. I just couldn't do it though. As I remember it, he waited for me to catch up to him, but my memory after all this time isn't very reliable.
A letter came in the mail from Miriam. It was so full of news, I could hardly take it all in. A minor miracle, I thought. I found out she had an e-mail address so after the first couple of letters we started corresponding via e-mail. During this time I was preparing to move to Newark, NY, a small town about thirty miles or so from where I lived in Rochester. The day I moved in I got a phone call from Mr. Priebe's niece who lives in Newark. Miriam had asked her to call and welcome me to town. As it turned out, Newark is where Mr. Priebe had been brought up. That is when that song came into my head and it is so true. It's a small world after all.
I realize that the Celestine Prophesy is a work of fiction, but have found its observations about the coincidences in life being linked to the path our lives take, to be true. There are a lot of "ifs" when we look back and think about how things might have been. It is far more positive to look at the things that have transpired through the years and trace back in your mind how they came to be. The "ifs" are endless.
