that’s me, on the left, on a christmas play with some of my primary school friends. my school, a sort of day-school (externato) with a religious undertone, organised very elaborate events for the holidays, with choir singing and historical recreations. everybody was involved, in some way or another, and all the parents came to the event. i remember i used to be good friends with the girls in the photo, but we’ve slowly lost touch with the years and the distance.

during summer last year, i had a scheduled surgery to remove a small sebaceous cyst which was becoming a nuisance. it was a simple thing, requiring only local anaesthesia. i remember dressing in one of those hospital robes and stepping into the surgery room, where a myriad of doctors and interns awaited me, all prepped up in gowns and caps.
i sat on the bed, waiting, until one of the surgeons said: “you probably don’t remember me, but i was in your primary school class until 4th grade“. the girl removed her mask and cap and i looked at her. she had changed the color of her hair, but her face was so unexpectedly familiar! of course i remembered her! :D we kissed, and then talked throughout the operation, sharing stories and tidbits of our life in the 20 years we hadn’t seen each other. i was happy to see her again, the friend who once stood next to me on a school recital.

what are the odds, right? i thought of it again this week because of something ira glass said on his last this american life: great stories happen to those who can tell them. not that i’m a great storyteller, but i think he might be right. :)