Sunday, September 18, 2011
I started playing violin at 10 years old when my old violin teacher came to my elementary school to recruit students. She was a funny lady with a dry wit and a great love of all things artistic and of elephants. I begged and pleaded with my parents, who had long ago decided after my disastrous attempt at keyboard that I should never learn to play another instrument. Progressing quickly though, I guess I proved that I can, indeed, sit still long enough to practice and become proficient at an instrument. In any event, my old violin teacher had been calling me and last night on my dinner break, around 7pm, I called her back. She didn't answer, so I left a cheery message and went back to work.
Lo and behold, I was looking at the facility board on the computer when my heart jumped to my throat. My violin teacher I had just called was a trauma patient. No wonder she didn't answer the phone. I ran downstairs to see her- she was ok and rather thrilled to see me again, cupping my face in her hands like she used to. I stayed with her long enough to pull out her IV and send her home.
I've had several weird crossings of fate lately. A co-worker suggested I go see a psychic or palm reader.