Nota Bene

So, a curious update.

I had mail waiting for me in the mailbox Friday evening.

Not BILLS. Not DEAR OCCUPANT silliness. An actual piece of mail, the kind addressed by hand, and a stamp on it.

And inside, a card from someone I recently met and immediately adored.

Hmm. Interesting.

My friend Marcy (who was in town at the time) tells me that we call things coincidences when we can’t call them something more accurate. I called this coincidence, but there’s a part of me that’s lost to the delicious idea that the universe heard me calling and has now tagged me it…