Serendipity. She’s like a dear friend whom you assumed had forgotten you. In her mind, you’re but a fondness of memories, somewhat clouded by neglected anticipation and stoic regret. You’re a collection of unnamed influences on subconscious waves who happen to show themselves at the most aspicious times and help define a moment in a painted display of color that denotes your touch of eloquence. As if she just happened to, by dumb luck, breeze through your life’s path. Only I don’t think Serendipity just happens at all. No, she’s persuaded into action and planned for. She is spoken into existence. She is hoped for. Loved into being.

God, Karma, Sisters of Fate, Jesus Christ, Whatever Name you choose to attach to this phenomenon to attempt to define Serendipity, your efforts prove fruitless – She cannot be defined. You know her touch intimately however. She was there when you awoke in this life. She is at the heart of positivity and love. She rejects haughty aggression and flees the possible negative.

And I thought that she had left me for good, by the wayside without a hope. Until You came along and I saw your smile. I heard your laugh – the song from a familiar heart. I see it in your eyes.

Luck or God or Fate – whatever the name, she’s always been there and hopefully will be again. In that smile or that laugh or those eyes. I miss you, Misty.

 

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