The other day, when I started my job, I was handed a phone list and I immediately scanned it to see if there was anyone I knew. Luckily, there was no one familiar but, as it turns out though, my best friend from grade school works in the same building (but for a different organization). This astounds me to no end; she herself just changed jobs a few months ago, and for some reason I thought her job was in the suburbs. But this has "Messages from the Universe" written all over it - at least, as I like to interpret "Messages from the Universe". I take this as yet another neon sign telling me I am where I am supposed to be, despite my lingering feeling that I hacked off a limb and left it in NYC.
On that note, I do keep hitting these sad pockets, usually on the train to and from work. For some reason, probably because that's the only time I have to really think, this is when it hits me that certain doors are now closed, and I keep having to scold myself for trying to imagine ways the doors might be crow-barred open at some future point. The only way I can stop myself is to remember very hurtful things, and hence the sadness. I suppose it will go away in time, but sheesh. Enough already.