Small World

When we bought out house three-ish years ago, it was from the children of the people who built the house. The couple had two children, who were left to sell the house after the parents passed away. When we took possession of the house, there were a few items here that harkened back to that family– a sign that said “The Haimans,” a concrete block with the kids’ handprints in it from when they were kids, etc. We asked our realtor to ask their realtor if they wanted any of the stuff; they didn’t.

Today, Mike took Michaela to a field trip to Mission Trails Regional Park, a park that’s just down the road from the house. Their guide was a man whose name tag said Steve Haiman– the name of one of the kids who grew up in our house. Now, that’s not the most common name in the world, but it’s not “Music,” either. Mike asked the guide if he grew up in San Diego; yes. If he grew up near here; yes. If he grew up at the corner of College and {cross street}; yes. If he grew up at {our address}; yes.

Of all the guides at the park… Of all the groups of school children… Of all the days to go to the park… Mike found the man who spent his early years in what’s now our guest bedroom. (His brother had Michaela’s room.)

It’s a small world after all!