Miami

When I was twenty-six years old, I was working as a waiter at Olive Garden. One day I decided I

wanted to move to Miami.

I told one of the waitresses, Mary, about my plan.

She responded by saying that she was also planning to move to Miami.

What made the moment interesting is that Mary was the only person I told about my decision

besides my manager.

Even more interesting was how it happened.

Before I told her, I heard the familiar voice say:

“Tell her you’re moving to Miami.”

A month later I was driving down Ocean Boulevard in Miami when a woman suddenly walked

across the street in front of my car.

It was Mary.

I was so surprised that I pulled over and followed her into the restaurant where she worked.

She explained that she was running late for work and had parked across the street, which caused

her to cross the road right at the moment I was driving by.

Looking back, I asked myself:

What are the chances that the only person I was led to tell about moving to Miami would also

move there?

What are the chances she would be late for work that day and walk directly in front of my car?

The voice that told me to tell her had already known I would see her again.

Moments like that made me realize that what we often call coincidence may actually be the

unfolding of something that was already arranged.