We Are All Pieces of a Puzzle

The strangest thing happened the other day on the way to Newton. I’m in Westwood and I get a call from Stu, but I’m too busy trying not to get lost, so I don’t answer. As I’m getting towards the 95 South onramp in the right lane Stu pulls up next to me on the left. I look over and he’s got his window down and he says “zzzup dude.”

“Holy shit, what the fuck?!” I yelled back at him as I rolled my window down. I asked him what he was doing, and he held up his GPS and said “cache.”

He asked me what I was doing. I told him I was going to a doctor’s appointment. Not nearly as fun and interesting.

So I pulled onto the exit and thought to myself how strange of a situation that was. But…that’s not the end of the story.

I talked to Stu tonight about it, and he said that he was on 109 earlier that same day and he saw someone in a white Taurus (the same as mine) going west (thank you for the correction Stu, I knew I was missing a key element here). He thought it was me at first, but it wasn’t. Then on his way to West Roxbury he ended up behind me going east.

It reminded me of what happened a few years ago after Bonnaroo in Tennessee. The night before we left, we kept saying we should meet in Maryland and stay at the same hotel. The next day we didn’t make it to Maryland. We didn’t talk to Stu and his buds on the way back, we forgot about the whole Maryland idea completely. As it got dark we made a random decision to stop at a Red Roof Inn somewhere in Virginia (correct me if I’m wrong about the location).

We get to the room and I’m waiting for Matt to unlock the door, and in the corner of my right eye I see a familiar silhouette through the window. I’m thinking I’m having some kind of Bonnaroo after effect or something when the door next to me swings open and Stu is standing there with a big grin on his face.

“What the fuck?” I can’t believe what I’n seeing. Of all the places that we could stop up the east coast from Tennessee to Massachusetts, we stop at the same damn Red Roof Inn. Not only that, but in the room right next to him.

That week was unreal. Every aspect of the trip came together perfectly like a large jigsaw puzzle. In the core of the week the puzzle was completed as a whole, and in the later days the pieces broke and dispersed in different directions and continued that way until now. Now they have stopped and they will begin to slowly come back together. As the pieces grow closer, the signs grow more potent.

Everything is connected. There are no coincidences. Count the layers brah

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4 Responses to We Are All Pieces of a Puzzle

  1. Pingback: The Weekly Note: Rare occasions « Up in the Basement

  2. Riane says:

    Paul– Funny to read your story, not only because it’s a good story, but also because of the continual notion of puzzle pieces that strings throughout my life. Yesterday I finished a puzzle print of Andy Warhol’s characterization of Marilyn Monroe. I’m missing one piece. The last puzzle I completed- the Boston skyline. Also missing one piece. I’m either one piece short of a full puzzle or I just lose shit. Somehow I wish it were the latter. Love ya Paul!

  3. maulpartin says:

    I think we’re all short a few puzzle pieces from the start, and throughout life we find them as we go along. It’s what makes life fun and interesting. Take, for example, all the people you have met in the past few years, and how they have helped to complete your puzzle. I’ve always found it amazing how people can impact me as a whole. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always interesting. There is always something to be learned from everyone we’ve ever known, and anyone we meet in the future. And from our experiences and meetings we can make a positive outcome out of anything. The trick is to find the good and the pieces will come back together.

    Love and miss you Riane, thanks for reading!

  4. maulpartin says:

    Matt, I’d like to thank you for your “shout-out” on Up in the Basement. Keep on writin’ bud, because that’s what we do. Wield your knives and strike clean, let’s etch some history.

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