Lost and Found

Every now and then we meet people who are destined to be friends, even though we may not recognize them as such when we first meet them.

JB was a college buddy. And after college, I went off to Germany to learn German. Returning eight months later, I returned to Chicago, where I reconnected with Jeremy and we resumed our friendship.

A year later, I was back off to Germany, this time to go to medical school. He moved. I lost his parents number. I was burning bridges at the time. I was making a break with my past, trying to establish a future in Berlin. It worked.

I was a Berliner. It was my city. In a way, it still is.

JB was forgotten. Chicago was a distant memory.

One sunny summer afternoon the telephone rang in my apartment in Prenzlauer Berg.

"Guten Tag," said a vaguely familiar American voice "haben Sie ein Gehirn aus Wackelpudding?"

It was JB.

I was delighted to hear his voice, but how did he find me?

AD worked as a substitute teacher and waited tables at Tre Kroener in his "free time" (obviously not exactly free) to make ends meet.

Tre Kroener is a Swedish restaurant, and if there's one thing JB loves, it's bland Northern European food. As Fate should see fit, he decided to take his wife to breakfast one morning when AD was waiting tables. They made frequent eye contact. They knew each other, but weren't sure from where. Where was the connection? Then, the coin fell.

"Excuse me, weren't you AK's roommate?"
"Yeah, yeah, you're one of his friends from college."

Numbers were exchanged. The phone in Berlin rang.

I couldn't believe he was married. We talked for a long time. I promised to swing by his apartment and meet his wife next time I was in Chicago.

She's great. They had a child. I moved back to Chicago. Now, we play video games in his basement. Just like in college.

Is this what Nietzsche spoke of with the "Eternal Recurrence?"