The night sky was clear in the windshield, the late night breeze singing the song of a past tempest.

     "It's not that... more like... do you think we are that significant that every single event for every single person must have some meaning?" He breathed in, thought a bit more. "There are what, eight billion people in this world and every one is important enough to have every small event have a personal meaning?"

     It wasn't an incredulous question, he was smart enough to not make definitive assertions on impossible-to-prove topics, but there was a slight tone of disbelief and impossibility in his tone. So I answered honestly.

     "I don't know. I don't want to play into an argument that states that some people are more important and therefore have more coincidences that others in their lives." It was a dumb argument if even just because I didn't belive anyone was better or worse in such strict terms. "But I have had my fair share of... events that lined up to be more than simple coincidences."

     Lighting lit up the sky momentarily. Entropy, pure unchallenged natural power was always a sight to behold. The infinite ammount of events that had to align to make a bolt of lighting light up the sky was neat reminder of the impossibilities of our daily lives.

     "You know, a few days ago I was supposed to go with my mom to a party the school threw for her. Not technically for her, just the sixtieth anniversary of the school founding. Her being the third class to graduate was something to celebrate. Anyways, I wanted to go. I miss my teachers and wanted to see the renovations, but it was formalwear and nothing I tried on satisfied me, so after having a small mental breakdown I told my mother that I couldn't go. She goes, I feel kinda bad, but figured I'd prepare better for the next reunion, whenever that might be. After about forty minutes, phone lights up. I get a call from our friend, but not through, you know, the phone app. He called through a social media app, as soon as I pick up he asks me if I can pick him up from the police station; he'd been mugged."

     The traffic light shines red, the car stops. 

     "I can see the coincidence, and there is nothing I can say beyond I believe it to be happenstance. Neat timing by the criminal, bad luck on our friend, what else is there?" Light shines green, car starts to roll again. "See, that would imply that we live in something like a videogame. The Sims. That what happened was orchestrated by a higher power."

     "True, but I was also the first person he called, the only one he thought he could stand the presence of." I answered, keeping a slight piece of pride to myself. "I was the one he needed, and had I gone to a relatively inconsequential gathering he'd had to have someone who he can stand less pick him up."

     He sped up and overtook a car that was going slower that warrented. "Still, do you believe that all those events have to have a meaning?"

     "I don't know, but remember when we had to administer a psychometric test to a child for our class?" I ask him, thinking of the second best example I could bring up. I wasn't trying to debate him to change his mind; these experiences were all more than interesting for the conversation.  "I was talking with his mother while driving them home, and we talked a bit about fate. She told me that once, when was driving her kid home the vehicle's engine stops working at a red light. While tries to start it back up as the light turns green, a bus speeds past the red light that was stopping traffic from the incoming road. It would've killed them both. If the car hadn't stopped." 

     Another red light. We come to a halt as the street lights up from the giant advertising billboards all around the city centre. He thinks, and agrees that it was a convenient malfunction. "I guess I can see your point. But what are all these beyond anecdotes? Bad things still happen, good people get hurt for no apparent reason at all. My car parts still get stolen after I've replaced them so many times. Any messages there? Am I forever bound to have my car stripped down little by little?"

     "Maybe, maybe it's time you get something less strippy." We both laugh. His car was a constant punching bag, but it still worked. "But let me tell you one more thing. This one I can't even explain, but what my mother and brother think is really beautiful."

     "Remember how my brother got married last week? Well, the rings that he and the bride used were forged from my dad and mom's rings. They melted them down to make them. That in itself I find just beautiful. So technically, those rings were already blessed. Anyways, since my dad is... no longer with us, my brother had to stand in as the godfather alongside my mother. Everything had been perfect up until that point: no issues, the weather was fine, the lights were on, the people were happy and comfortable. But as soon as the priest blesses the rings, again technically for the second time, the power goes out in the whole church. Just as the rings were being blessed." I stay silent for a second, reconsidering what I had just said.

     "So what? The power goes out all the time here. A bird farts a bit too loudly and half the country loses access to running water."

     "I'd say the same, what an unlucky moment. But I spoke with my mom and brother after, and he thought that it was a sign from beyond. A sign that even in death my father was there, with his eldest son being married. Giving him away in his own way. Watching his own ring be blessed again for his son. Showing that he'd-" My throat tightens a little, "-that he'd always be with us. Even if we can't see him."

     My friend stays quiet. It is always hard to fight an argument made with strong emotions, even those that have been dealt with. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes betray deep thought. My friend isn't at all a skeptic. As far as I can tell, anyways. He nods and agrees; it is a nice thought. "But do you think there is a meaning to every small event?"

     "I don't know. I just know that I have lived through more than enough events to belive that it is all random chance." I smile at the thought of not having a definite opinion in spite of all I've spoken. 

     We reach my friend's house, he lets me in so I can get my keys and drive home. We say farewells and I walk to my car. In its silence I think about my life. I ask myself if there really is a meaning behind it all. If all those events lead to anything, if their causality is real. And in the thought process, I ask myself again the one question everyone wants to know.

     Is there any meaning to life?

     I always found the question funny. Of course there is. 

     The purpose of life is to end. There is nothing more.

     But that doesn't mean that my purpose is to die. The lack of a purpose is what makes life beautiful. 

     The purpose of life is whatever I make it to be. The purpose of life is whatever makes me happy, fulfilled, and for me, whatever makes me a beacon of light to others. To be the friend that one calls when you want to be alone but not really. The friend who you can call when you need advice, help, a shoulder for others to cry on and someone to laugh with. And my answer is not universal. 

     My purpose is not your purpose. And who says we need only one? Can our purpose not simply be to give meaning to meaninglessness? To see the lights go out at an important moment and choose to believe something beautiful? To thank our trashy car for not working and saving us? To get mad at clothes and have a good friend need you?

     A strict purpose would be boring. A reason we know takes away the fantasy and misteriousness of a happenstance. Uncertainty makes for the most amazing recipes.

     A meaning beyond us might well just be the meaning we all crave.