If you walk up the back property and follow the wire fence until it ends, there’s a copse of trees in a shallow depression where the stream runs through it. Keep the stone wall on your left and it’ll curve right and you’ll run straight into it. The wall is built in the English style, a row of stones like dominos sitting atop it. The hills around there carve out a pillowed landscape and these trees are some of the only ones visible for miles.

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A handful of those close to me know well my obstinance as it pertains to illness. I am continually firm in my conviction that I will not get sick. It’s not that I never get sick — because I occasionally do — but I get sick very rarely. And my secret? I am stubborn to the point of absurdity in the belief that I just will not get sick.

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For years I’ve kept a log of “small world” occurrences. These are the events you witness that seem unlikely to the point of absurdity. Connections between disparate people in your life, one-in-a-million-trillion chance circumstances. I started this list after the following occurrence.

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Medium is full of stories that go like this:

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In another time, my friends at 18 would’ve remained close for life; close to my heart, close at hand. But we were born to the generation that fled from safety; we sought something bigger than our quaint origins and called it destiny.

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