So, picture this (happened a few years ago, but I’m still telling the tale.) An older couple comes home one day to find, of all things, a mattress blocking their front door. What on earth? They hadn’t ordered any mattress! Oh, wait–must be for that other house again.
It was.
Picture winding roads out a bit from the main suburbia and a street sign that delivery truck drivers sometimes read wrong, with a home to each direction from that intersection with the same house number.
Picture my dad growing up in Carson City, Nevada.
Picture his high school classmate (and there were how many in that class, Dad? Eight?) now living in the one house, on the inadvertent receiving end of that mattress, and in the other… Our friends V and V.
Don’t you love it when the world shrinks like that?
And just to make it even smaller: when we moved here, the father of someone we knew at church owned a house that was good for entertaining in and would occasionally turn it over to his kids for parties, and we got to go there a few times. But Mitch’s dad retired and moved away and that was that.
V and V called us a few years ago to invite us over, but mentioned they’d moved. Okay, cool; we got the new address, we’re driving there, and the closer we get, the more we’re saying, Do you think?!… Nah… *I* think…! And then we pull in the driveway.
Oh. My. Goodness.
Richard knocks on the door, V opens it, and Richard asks if the house still has the such-and-such room down at the end to the left. V, stunned, goes, How did YOU know?!
Dad’s classmate got a good laugh out of that one. And we offered to help her with any mattress removals she might need ever after.
What are your small-world stories?