"SunRiver, Serendipity, and the Brightness Between"

Winter’s hush at Lounsbury Pond—red berries bright against the silence, joy tucked in the branches

Unexpected Connections and Lost Phones
Today brought one of those small, surprising adventures that end up lingering longer than expected. It began with my visit to SunRiver, where my good friend Emma greeted me with the kind of laughter that instantly lightens the day. I had stopped by to give her her Christmas present before meeting my new doctor—an appointment I assumed would be routine.

Instead, I found myself sitting across from a beautiful Indian woman who immediately upended my long‑held preference for male physicians. Within minutes, we were talking easily, discovering shared interests I never would have anticipated. She was poised, warm, and—let’s be honest—an absolute knockout. Only later did I learn that she isn’t just a doctor at SunRiver—she’s the doctor, the head physician above the others. Somehow, without even trying, I ended up connected with the very best.

But our introduction was far from smooth. I was only half present, distracted by the sinking realization that I had misplaced my phone. I asked Emma to call it, but we heard nothing—not from my pockets, not from my bag. The thought of losing everything stored on that device was maddening. For a moment, I cared more about recovering that phone than the appointment itself, though thankfully the visit still went well despite my scattered state.

The mystery resolved itself with a knock on the exam room door. Emma stepped in, phone in hand, triumphant. She had found it on the lobby seat where I’d been sitting earlier. And suddenly it all came back to me.

Before the appointment, I had been browsing the free bookshelf, picking up two titles—including one by Richard Bachman (Stephen King always finds his way to me). That’s when a little boy in a green pants suit caught my attention. Normally, I’m not particularly fond of children, but this one—with his black hair, bright eyes, and stunning Latin American complexion—was irresistible. He broke away from his guardians and toddled straight toward me. I tried to ignore him at first, but he waved his tiny fingers and was seconds away from climbing into my lap. It must have been then that my phone slipped away. His older brother retrieved him, and I assured him the little one was cool before they disappeared around the corner.

Emma’s Thoughtful Surprise
Emma truly saved the day by returning my phone, but she also gave me something else—one of those moments that makes you laugh long after it’s over.

The Meaning Behind the Gift
When she opened her Christmas present, she became emotional in a way that caught me off guard. She realized how closely I had listened to her over time—her hopes, her small desires, the things she longed for but didn’t yet have. That’s what I wanted to give her: something simple, something meaningful, something hers.

But before she unwrapped it, she thought—based on the way I had packaged it—that I was giving her my book. She believed I had finally finished Painted People and that she was holding the very first copy. The misunderstanding brought tears to her eyes.
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In truth, the book remains unfinished. Only God knows when Painted People, long overdue, will finally be complete. And yet, being in this new place, in this new season of my life, I feel closer to finishing it than ever. How could I not?

Closing
Funny how a misplaced phone, a kind friend, and a chance connection can remind you that life still knows how to surprise you when you least expect it.