chatting

Synchronicity

One of my favourite events at the Olympics is the synchronised diving. Two people in matching swimsuits get up onto the diving boards at the same time, push off at the same time, do their twisty leg manoeuvres at the same time, and splish-splish hit the water at the same time. Elegant. Impressive.

Dive Dive Bend Bend Splash Splash.
Dive Dive Bend Bend Splash Splash.

This morning on my walk to work I reached a set of traffic lights, missing the green pedestrian light by maybe four seconds. I could have done that awkward run to catch it—you know the one, where you don’t really want to look like you’re running, so you just cycle your lower legs and keep the rest of your body rigid, sort of a ‘businessman canter’—but instead decided to enjoy the break.

I was so glad I did.

Two cars were parked side by side, awaiting their respective green lights. And suddenly, in perfect synchronisation, the two drivers both unfurl one hand from the wheel. They both reach up. A single hooked finger is pushed inside a nostril. They dig, with mild frustration. Then the hands go back on the wheels.

I was delighted. Serendipity is everywhere. The Olympics might have the shiny suits and the perfect athletic form, but my traffic light moment was a perfect convergence of fate. Two commuters, each heading in different directions, happening upon that intersection at the same time. Two snot globules, equal in stubbornness, choosing that moment to irritate their creators. And to think, I could have missed it!

Today is going to be a special day.

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