Synchronicity

Two weeks ago when I was on vacation, I went out the door of my mother in law’s condo and headed for the park across the street.  I had just started out when I came across a couple pushing bikes along the pathway. “Everything okay?” I asked.  “Flat tire,” was the woman’s response.  Her husband’s bike was fine, hers was not.  They were a long way from their hotel, the bike rental company was closed because it was Sunday, and they had had no luck getting a cab to come and cart one of them plus a bicycle.  We happened to have an SUV for our rental car and I offered a ride.  The woman gladly took me up on it and her husband cycled back to the hotel.  While we took the front wheel off her bike, loaded it into the back of the car and drove, she and I had a chance to visit.  She was about my age and lived in Rhinebeck, New York.   And…………she is a massage therapist.  What are the odds?!? Massage therapy has been my profession for twenty-eight years. Of all the gin joints — or bike paths — in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine. Coincidence??  I believe it was, as my friend Chris terms it, synchronicity.