Stumbling across the floor in the dark to my bed, I noticed the blinds were still open. The sky is dark despite a gibbous moon, so the only reason I knew they were open was the bit of light that shone through a small window on the house next door. Where the old lady lived. Where the grass is overgrown. The house that has sat empty for several weeks now. Maybe months, I can’t remember.
I think she died. But maybe I’m wrong and she’s playing cribbage at a nursing home.
I lost a friend.
Because I was stupid.
Not the old lady, though I’m sure she would have made a fine friend.
But today, while feeling sorry for myself, I came across something odd. A single post on a website with nearly the same URL as mine and exactly the same title, containing a post written by a woman about something I might write about, a woman in a similar circumstance. I was distracted by the chills I got. Did I write this? I couldn’t have. I reread the post and found one detail in her story that didn’t match mine.Then the date caught my eye. One post on the entire website, written in 2010. I knew of WordPress back then, but I hadn’t used it yet.
So odd. Like I was looking into to her world, a seemingly mirrored image of mine.
Odder still that my phone suggested the site in Google’s search bar after I typed only one letter. I followed the white rabbit.
And it occurred to me how intricately our lives are intertwined. Even with people we don’t know.
You are a part of my universe, and I yours.
The idea is fascinating, exciting even, that there’s an entire universe that exists because I do. Each of us with our own. Some parallel. Some intersecting. Some embedded. But all wrapped in the same vacuum of space.
A Mobius strip is a thin ring that has only one side. Its back and front are part of the same continuous surface. You exist on the back of mine and the front of yours. And yet,
I lost a friend, but maybe not. Maybe that person is sliding down the opposite side of my one-sided universe and I the backside of,
It’s a comforting idea anyway.