My life has been marked by a web of uncanny coincidences—each one tied to the three relationships that shaped me.
At 17, I met Frank while working at Happy Herman’s in Perimeter Mall. We reconnected by chance at a Longhorn Steakhouse on Christmas Eve in 2006. Our families were already intertwined—his brother and my brother shared the same birthday, and his parents were married in the same chapel as mine. When Frank and I wed in 2007, we chose that very chapel. Even professionally, connections ran deep—his uncle and my cousin, both architects, collaborated for years without knowing our link.
At 24, I met Random while working at the High Museum. We married in 2000, discovering eerie similarities—his brother and I shared a birthday, and our mothers had nearly identical names. His first name, Frederick, mirrored my father’s name, Fred. Though our marriage ended in 2004, the strange connections lingered.
Later, I dated Sean, a musician in a band called Halcyon Way. Years after we parted, my cousin unknowingly designed a community named Halcyon, with a main road matching the band’s name. When my husband and I dined there in 2022, we noticed a mural of a guitar—odd for a non-music venue. Then, Frank struck up a conversation with the restaurant owner, whose name, coincidentally, was Sean. Another thread in the web of my life.
Through these experiences, I’ve come to see my life as a tapestry of coincidences—each one a quiet whisper of connection, guiding me along an unseen path.