The Universe's Charm

Sometimes I just love the way the Universe unwinds things in ways we could never imagine. The fact that I participate in a blog is miraculous enough. I’m not what you would label technical and didn’t even have my own computer till a few months before I was blogging, I’m sure I would never have ventured into that world without my writing group. One of my sisters reads that blog each week. Last week was the Milk story connecting childhood memories to milk. With the writing groups encouragement I posted that story. I don’t tend to put longer pieces on the blog and didn’t think it was that interesting but I listened to their cue. Because I did post it, my sister read it the next day and called to tell me she couldn’t believe I had written about milk. Even the references to the milk man, glass bottles and the charm bracelet, as she had just had a conversation talking about these things the day before. She also recalled riding her bike, with a basket in front, to carry the milk home from the milk machine and our Italian neighbor, Micky Mangiola, who drove the milk truck. Her father-in-law had also been a milk man, which I never knew, and it had come up in that context.
I’m thinking “What are the chances she had similar memories surface about such an unlikely topic, at a similar time.” And how we would have never known if I hadn’t put it on the blog. I’m fairly sure it was a subject that would not have appeared in one of our weekly phone conversations.
Then she says “There’s more.” “What does that mean?” I reply. “I can’t believe we never told you.” (we being our other sister and herself) “Told me what?” “About the charm bracelet.” “What are you talking about?” I said. An aside for anyone who hasn’t read the previous story; after one of my magical walks to the milk machine I was digging in the yard and found a charm bracelet. I thought this was a gift, directly from God, encouraging me forward in my suburban life. Next she says, “Well, we stole those charms and the bracelet at Macys. We finally figured out we had to get rid of it or we’d get caught. Mom was bound to find it, wonder where it came from, so eventually we threw it into the bushes.” I’m stunned. Not in a million years, not to mention the last thirty-seven or so, would I have come up with that scenario. “I’ve actually wondered about the origin many times.” I told her. “Even when I wrote the story, a few days before, it occurred to me that we were the first people living in that house. It had been an undeveloped area so how could there be a charm bracelet buried in the dirt?” I’d always chalked it up to a mystery and thought it added to my ‘gift from God’ theory. But they stole it. I couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe they never told me.
Once again I’m the last to find out. This relates to another story involving Santa Claus but I’ll save for another time. It does remind me the universe can deliver playful surprises with a charm of it’s own. Being the last to know something gives it a lot of room to work with.

Mary