This was not revealed in the preview or the description, not even hinted in the movie. I tell you now, I did not know.

Six minutes before the end of the film Remember Me, a school teacher writes the date on the blackboard. It is September 11, 2001. The camera pulls away and zooms to a shot of the central character, staring thoughtfully out the window of the world trade centers. He will die.

No more possible than turning back time is my ability to turn this writing into a valiant tribute. That is not what this is. Concerning 9/11, I was lucky; I was not affected. When heavy music played with the film’s conclusion, I became aware that today is September 11, 2010. I felt sick and tasted salt and knew. I was crying. I was crying uncontrollably.

That feeling, that feeling of needing air because your lungs are collapsing on themselves, washed over. I pitched myself out the door, ran over the lawn, stumbled to the end of the dock. I hugged my knees. I thought.

Do you not see? Can you not understand this hideous, this fantastic, trick of God? There is no coincidence! It is all planned! There is no chance of rolling a seven. Do not pass go; do not collect $200. He is up there, laughing, because it took me so long to determine.

I stood up and my new theory was confirmed. So perfectly timed that it had to have been predestined, a fish’s gaping open mouth slid out of the water, closed once, and fell back. Its dorsal fin skimmed the surface, green and piercing. How often? Tell me, how often? And it happened as fast as water changes, so that with each new wave that moved beneath me, the sign became more fictitious. Might it not have only been some conjured up symbol that my overtired imagination thought up?

Is this all true? Is this pulled from some piece of literature? No. But a girl can hardly help if her life seems more appropriate for fiction. Just as one cannot help watching a film about 9/11 on that date. Just as one cannot unsee a macabre monster in the water. It is too perfect for coincidence.

That is my worst fear: that it is all predetermined. I could never face a day knowing that what I accomplish in those hours will never matter. What if all the dedication and commitment is meaningless, because whatever is going to happen, will happen anyway? What if past traumas occurred because of the life I was born into? What if there is no chance in every day, but only chance in the hand you are dealt?

I need to believe there is such a thing as coincidence.