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On Orchard

You think you’ll go years without hearing their voice, move and find a way to discover a new you. You wish that old part of you gets outdated, a relic resembling a computer glitch that some kid fixed at a Best Buy. But then you get the text: “Happy birthday.”

By itself, it may just be a sign of human decency, but the universe likes playing tricks on you. Crossing the street, something clicks as The Weakerthans end their song: “So what I’m trying to say, I mean what I’m asking is, I know we haven’t talked in a while, but could you come get me?” And you stop suddenly, confused on which direction you were heading.

The greatest tricks in the world are all based on coincidences. They support your heart in bypassing your brain. Statistical anomalies drive people insane because the rarity of an occurrence makes it that much more important, poignant. Yet, everyone forgets that every broken clock is right at least twice a day. That you ultimately believe what you want to. You decide first and then look around for support. In matters of church and state, others may argue against you, but the affairs of the heart have no legitimate detractors.