The Fine Line of Coincidences

She never named it, but it was always there when she needed it. To name it would mean to rely on it, and she wasn't about to start relying on coincidences now. It hadn't gotten her very far the first time around, and she'd learned her lesson.

Even as a young girl growing up, she'd always believed coincidences didn't exist; there was no such thing. She always had this knowledge buried inside her although she didn't know where she learned such things, she just knew them to be true. Coincidences don't exist because they are so much bigger than the meager label we slap on them: "It's simply a coincidence." Hm. What a lackluster word. Magic is what it was.

Was it a coincidence she met her equal match that hot summer day on July 5th, the same day her grandparents had gotten married, only in 1950? She took it as a sign and ran with it—it was destiny, surely. When she asked for a sign from above to confirm this was indeed the man she was meant to be with, she found a dime on the sidewalk later that day. When she flipped it over to its head, she saw it was dated 1950.

Just like magic.

For three years, she kept herself convinced this man was her other half, and kept her eyes peeled for signs indicating she was on the right path, but slowly, the signs stopped coming when she began to understand she deserved better andstarted to realize the man wasn't meant for her. They were no longer matches; more like fire and gasoline, although they were still equals—they both had done horrible things to one another, in the end they both suffered, and they both had healing to do. She didn't like who she had become while she was with him. They taught each other lessons, and she knew that she had met him for a reason, and that reason was to endure an extreme amount of painful self-growth, which, in the end, is always a good thing. However, her biggest lesson from it all was learning to stop making up things in her head, and to stop letting the Universe tell her what to do instead of living her life around what the Universe has to offer.

Sure, she was still spiritual, but as time passed, she didn't rely on the signs as much anymore. He had made her cold, he had taken some of her magic with him when he left. She learned there is a balance in trusting the Universe's plan for you, and actually putting in the work here on Earth to make things happen.

She still sometimes liked to play games with the Universe if the situation was new; if this job is the right one for me, show me a black cat. If I'm supposed to take on this project, a bald eagle will come my way. Sure enough, the Universe always delivered. It was fun, and eventually, she became happy again while she navigated back onto the path she had fallen off of; she was in her own lane again, trusting not only the Universe, but for the first time in her life, herself.

That's why, when a few years later, when she met him, she wasn't prepared. In fact, she didn't want to be in a relationship. She didn't have time; her job required her to travel, which she loved, and she was often gone for months at a time. She loved disconnecting from others and tried to stay private. The thought of trying to maintain a relationship through a screen annoyed her and she simply didn't want to do it. He understood, and he took the time to work on himself while she was gone, too. Every time she was back in the city, even if it was only for three days before she took off again, they'd have a wonderful time doing nothing but enjoying one another's company and exploring the depths of one another's souls. They'd stay up late talking until four in the morning, learning the grooves and scars and marks on each other's bodies. They understood one another and could freely share the thoughts they believed to be true without ever feeling judged, even though they were completely different people. Somehow, they worked—he taught her things and got her out of her comfort zone, he made her scared in the best ways possible by getting her out in the world to do things she'd never done before. When they made love, she allowed him to go places no man had ever gone with her before, she felt safe, and she liked it. Her creative block dissolved; she wanted to never stop creating after she met him, as if his energy had sparked the missing plug in her brain that made her creativity flow—and he highly encouraged her to do just that. He loved watching her paint, he'd bring her tea when she was curled up on the couch writing in her journal, and the hum of the sewing machine quickly became one of his favourite sounds as she'd hunch over late at night, fixing one of his sweaters or mending something or other. When he strummed the strings on his bass, she'd close her eyes and listen while he softly sang her Johnny Cash or some sad cowboy song, and she'd encourage him to keep playing when he was about to give up. She softened him; he was loud and hot-headed, quick to speak without thinking—she taught him patience just by being herself. He loved being in her presense and adored watching how she composed herself in all situations: Gracefully, peacefully. She was kind and she was gentle and she taught him how to open up the wounds inside to feel them and move on from them. She taught him how to treat people better, even though she never explicitly did so; he quietly did it on his own because he wanted to be better for her, he wanted to make the world a better place for her to exist in. She was his healer, his queen. He was her safe space, her inspiration.

This time, the give-and-take was equal. It was nothing like before. She didn't even like to compare the two because it felt wrong to do so; he was in another league of his own. Her past no longer mattered, because this time, she knew it to be true.

She didn't need to ask for any signs, she just knew.

The signs came anyway and quickly became impossible to ignore. Of course they came—for she was magic and the Universe loved her. She first began to notice them after one of their early conversations when they'd somehow gotten onto the topic of owls. He'd told her that barn owls were his favourite because they were prevalent where he grew up and he'd had an affixiation with them since he was a young boy. The way their white faces glowed in the dark, their screech was bone chilling and intimidating, and he loved the way they preyed on the unsuspecting at night, quickly and swiftly, while he was inside his room praying one day he could fly away, too.

He had this reoccuring dream as a boy that he'd sleep in a barn on a stack of hay and an owl would watch over him, and when he would wake up in his dream, he'd look dead into the eyes of the owl and stay like that for hours. He'd wake up from his slumber sweating, feeling like he just witnessed something he wasn't supposed to have seen, or as if he'd aquired some sort of knowledge he wasn't supposed to know.

Perhaps that's why they got along so well, for they both understood what it was like to have wisdom inside them with nowhere to put it to use.

Soon after he told her that story, she began to see barn owls everywhere she went. Once, on a day trip to North Vancouver, she decided to take the short SeaBus ride across the water instead of driving across Lion's Gate Bridge like she normally did. He had called her to see if she'd like to accompany him for dinner as she was boarding the ferry, and after she enthusiastically said yes, of course, and hung up the phone and found a place to sit, she was shocked to see a tiny plastic figurine of a ghostly white barn owl on the floor beside her, perhaps left behind by the child who had occupied the seat before her.

Or the time they went thrift shopping together, and she walked past a silver bomber jacket, its sleeve sticking out from the rack, catching her eye because she noticed the faint designer logo, almost iredecesent in the light and blending in amongst the other pre-loved coats if you didn't have the eye for it—when she took it off the rack to inspect it and confirm that yes, it was real Gucci, and for only $23 somebody had obviously mislabeled it, or they didn't know the basics of fashion and this was the Universe's gift to her for being so good and working so hard on herself, she took it off the rack and basically ran to the cashier to get it home before someone realized the horrible mistake they had made and tried to get her to pay more for it. When they got home and she tried it on, it fit like a glove, as if it was made for her specifically, and when she looked in the mirror, she noticed there was a small pin stitched to the bottom of the jacket in an attempt to cover up a small hole—it was a porcelain pin dawning a little brown owl sitting on a branch. She gasped, her hand drew to her mouth as goosebumps ran through her entire body.

She never told him of these strange coincidences. They were her little secret, even though she knew he'd completely understand if she were to tell him, and she knew he'd even love the stories himself. She didn't want to play games with the Universe with him; she didn't need to. But maybe just one last time.

Alright, that was pretty good, she admitted as she prayed that night. But give me something better. Something I can't miss even if I tried. If he's the one who I'm meant to marry should he ever ask, show me the biggest, realest barn owl possible. She let the thought go and drifted off to sleep, because she knew that whatever was meant for her would find her.

Months passed and she was gone again for work; she'd been in a remote area in Northern British Columbia and didn't have cell service. She loved being off the grid and not talking to anyone, although she did miss talking with him, the one who understood her most. She wondered if he thought of her as much as he was in her thoughts, but she told herself she'd be okay if she wasn't.

She never got the sign she'd asked for; the barn owl never appeared. Was it meant to be this way, alone on her own?

As she drove through the dark, winding roads through the desolate mountains, she sat in the silence as she pondered her thoughts. Enough of this, she thought, I'll always be okay even if I end up alone. Grabbing her phone to put her favourite playlist on, she looked down for two seconds to type in her passcode.

It came from out of nowhere.

She hadn't known what she hit, but one minute she was driving, the next she was dead stopped in the middle of the road, her taillights illuminating red on the road behind her; but she didn't know where the red on the road she looked ahead at came from. She prayed it wasn't a person, or a child, or a sweet, innocent animal.

Opening her car door with a shaky hand to inspect the damage she'd done, she prayed it was reversible as she crept towards the front of her car. She could hardly believe her eyes as she stood, stunned, looking at the white feathers sticking out of her grill.

The poor barn owl layed on the ground unmoving. She crouched down beside it and stroked its side, but its soul had already moved on from this place. Crying, she told it how sorry she was, and that she'd never meant for this to happen... or had she?

So she got her sign.

She didn't know what it meant. Killing a barn owl definitely didn't seem like a good omen, but she did ask for a sign she couldn't miss. Once again, the Universe gave her what she wanted, but she realized she hadn't been clear enough, or perhaps the Universe just had a sick sense of humour and loved to make her feel crazy, which she did.

The sudden realization came over her that this was another lesson. She caught herself doing it again—she had been relying on the Universe to tell her which path to take, which direction to go in. She knew the feelings in her heart were real; she didn't have to ask an external force how she should feel.

In that moment, she realized she was love.

So she might get her heart broken again, but that was okay. These people, these places, and these experiences—these were what made her, her. She had collected little bits and pieces of the people she loved and incorporated them into her own personality, and even though the past had left her bitter and cold, nobody could ever take her magic away from her again. She knew better, she just had to be reminded of it.

She thanked the owl for its life and for the lesson, and tried to give it a proper burial given her circumstances by moving it gracefully off to the side of the road and covering it with a fallen branch of leaves.

She knew she'd be okay with or without him, for she was love and the world is big and there are many people to experience. If not him, she would always still have love for herself, and that was enough.

Still crying over the owl, she decided to leave the games behind her as she got back in her car and continued on her journey. As she drove on, she came to the conclusion that her life was blessed and beautiful and she didn't need to rely on the signs anymore, although she'd always welcome them when they came.

When her phone started to ring, it startled her because she'd been out of service for so long and she was in the middle of nowhere. Looking down to see his name on her phone, she began to cry again. What a coincidence, the fact that he was calling the exact moment as she drove passed a spot with service.

What is meant to be, will be.