What Are the Odds?

I'm working on a novel. Actually, it's been in various stages of writing, rewriting, in the drawer, in the garbage, and back to writing for a number of years now. Thanks to my fabulous critique group, it finally has an ending. Hooray!

The setting is my hometown (never actually named) on the street where I grew up (name changed to Brick Street). The year is 1971 when forced busing finally brought integration to schools in the South. The main characters are two sixth grade girls, one white, one black, and their journey to friendship.

Last week I had lunch with a new friend, a dear African American lady that I want to get to know better. We have had some professional interaction during the last few months, but that was all. So we scheduled lunch.

As we began learning about each other, we realized that we both lived on "Brick Street"! I moved from the street with I was in 7th grade. That was about 1968. She moved into the neighborhood when she was in 7th grade. That was about 1970. We both went to the same junior high school and the same high school, again missing each other by a few years. We were both English majors in college. She became a teacher. I became a homeschool mom. And twenty some years later, we're having lunch talking about familiar people and places.

We could have been my two story-characters. I think I like the way this ends. Or begins.