Here is the story I wrote in 1979 or 1980 (please remember I was only in 10th grade at the time):
So there you have it. The story written by Robert Peterson is over 20 years old. The story I wrote is over 30 years old. My story is fiction. His story is true. The stories are so close in plot and character, it's almost as if I had a premonition. The story, God's Gift, was typewritten and graded by my English teacher, who gave me an A-/B+, which wasn't bad considering the lack of development of character. It was never published anywhere.
So what do you think? Mr. Peterson lost his mother. Sara lost her husband. Wendy gave Mr. Peterson a picture of a sandpiper. Elizabeth gives Sara a sand etched picture of a seagull. It is almost the same story, except that I didn't have as much dialog or character development. And mine was not a true story. Or it wasn't at the time I wrote it.
The strangest thing to me about the email story I received yesterday is that I had forgotten about my story until I read Mr. Peterson's. I had forgotten I had saved it, even when Justin's best friend lost his three year old daughter to leukemia in 2010. I wrote The Butterfly Princess (click on the link on the illustrated picture on the right of the blog for the children's story) in honor of Juliana. In high school, I did not know anything about leukemia. Now, I know more about cancer than I would ever want to know. Life is short. And I don't believe in coincidence either.
Today, I wish for you, a sandpiper.