Monday, April 23, 2012


Today is my friend Becky's birthday.  If she were still alive, she'd be 56, just like me.  Unlike the anniversary of her death, this is a happy day.  I always think about how lucky I was to know her, and I remember the little gifts and lunches we always shared to celebrate the occasion.

And speaking of little gifts . . . I just opened a book of mine I haven't opened for maybe ten years, even though I love it:  THE ART OF THE PERSONAL ESSAY edited by Phillip Lopate.  I'm doing a leetle report on Montaigne tomorrow, and so I thought I'd read his essays there.  Anyway, Becky's handwriting filled the margins.

I know!

I'd forgotten that I'd once loaned her the book (she taught a class for me) and so all her notes were right there for me to read.  What are the chances, people?

Hey, Universe!  Thank you.


James said...

I would push like if this were facebook. I am glad Becky wrote the notes, and I am glad you found them.

Lisa B. said...

How lovely is this? So lovely.

Louise Plummer said...

Ah, sweet synchronicity. Jung was right.

Emma said...

Really? That is pretty awesome, and totally meant to happen, I'm sure of it.