For a blogger who searches for joy in the little things in life, I hit the miniature jackpot a few weeks ago. Being a sentimental sort of person who especially likes receiving and sending mail; I write a fair number of letters. (The theme of this blog is especially postcard related and if you, like me, believe that there simply aren’t enough postcards being sent around the world then you might like this website). I like selecting cards and writing down everything in my head and imagining a friend opening said card on a day much different from that when I first scratched down the ink, but one which now carries the thoughts and images forward from where it started. Therefore, the sentimental side of my personality sometimes encourages me to write a card to my future self. I write it, seal it, and forget about it. The forgetful side of my personality, which permits me to be thoroughly surprised when I happen upon the card months or years later, is also generally grateful and perplexed by this nice reminder of things that I have completely forgotten ever writing. July 22nd 2013 was one of those days where I found myself wandering a sunny and busy Montjuïc in Barcelona, Spain. It was also the day that Prince George was born, as that was a fact considered important enough to be noted down in this letter to myself. I mention how much I want to return to the city (and unbeknown to me I will, just 3 months later. Isn’t life marvellous?) and various other more melancholy things which nonetheless have taken on a little brightness, presumably due to the lively surroundings and holiday mood. I sealed the card and read it again after Christmas, then put it away once more. On the 18th July 2014 (if it had been exactly a year later, the coincidence would have been nothing short of creepy) I come home from work to be slightly confused by my instant recognition of a card lying unassuming on the kitchen worktop. I wonder how such a card came to be sitting there, given that I haven’t seen it in about 6 months because, to my knowledge, it was in a box under my bed somewhere between a large photo album and two heavy books. I pick it up, notice a post stamp and some handwriting not recognisable as my own, and realise that not only have I been lucky enough to receive a piece of mail from a friend (honestly, it makes me happier than the Great British Bake Off and that is certainly a big statement) but she had somehow selected the very card that I had chosen for myself, reinforced with the line ‘I hope this postcard is suitably arty, I thought you’d like it’. Before I move on to my little positivity rant, can we all take a minute to appreciate how amazing this coincidence is, well done friend (who I’m assuming doesn’t want to be named but YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE YOU MIND READING GENIUS). When I thought about this lovely incident recently, it was after my mother had reassured me with the phrase ‘what’s for you won’t go by you’ when I worried about the future and whatnot. This is a little example of that. What if i had never taken a bus tour of Barcelona and ended up perusing the cards at Montjuïc? What if my friend had sent this postcard to someone else? What if she had found an au pair position in a completely different Spanish city? What if this card had indeed been lost when I moved back home? It took me some weeks to find my original and confirm my suspicion that I had two postcard twins. The list of possibilities goes on. Of course, you have to work hard to get what you want, but I find fate to be a reassuring belief. For every bad thing that happens, something good may come of it. If a job position/relationship/apartment/postcard is simply meant to be for you, then have faith that it will happen in the most unexpected of ways.