Photo by C Drying on Unsplash
My ex-husband and I lived out West but when an old college roommate called me asking for help in a new position she’d taken, we said so long to Colorado, packed up our old Chevy Nova with the 457KEN license plate and drove to our new adventure in Indiana.
We lucked out and found a house to rent right away. The neighbors were nodding acquaintances, but the ex and I never had an actual conversation with them. I suppose because the ex was working odd chef’s hours and I was reconnecting with my tribe whenever I had free time.
That summer we decided to move out to the country. As we packed our trusty Nova, the neighbors came over to chat. We introduced ourselves and the couple looked at each other and grinned. “What’s up?” I questioned.
Sheepishly, the guy admitted, “We always called you Ken and Barbie,” as he pointed to our 457KEN license plate. We all laughed about that since the ex and I were about as far from Ken and Barbie types as you can imagine. We said our good-bye-nice-meeting-you-at-lasts and were sorry we’d waited so long to know each other as neighbors.
What I find so interesting about this is that many years later, I married a wonderful man named Ken. Was The Universe trying to tell me something long ago or does it just have a funny sense of humor? Drop me a comment below and let me know if you’ve ever had a nickname you felt was way off the mark. I’d love to hear from you!
