Last weekend, I spotted a vintage Snoopy lunchbox at a garage sale and decided to bring it home. Inside, taped neatly to the lid, was a name: Chris Neff. It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it—until it hit me. The new guy at my office is also named Chris Neff.
The next day at work, I asked if he’d ever had a Snoopy lunchbox as a kid. He paused, looking puzzled, until I pulled up a photo of the one I’d bought and the handwriting inside. His eyes went wide—it was his. The very lunchbox he’d lost years ago.
By sheer coincidence, something from his childhood had found its way back to him. Now, the lunchbox is home again, and we’re both still marveling at the odds.
Life has a funny way of bringing little pieces of magic to our ordinary days.