Our names are Jack and Jill, like the story book, and we were each other's best friends growing up. When we became teenagers we drifted our own ways. Jack went to the service and I got married. I moved to Okinawa, Japan for three years. Then I came home. Jack moved a 2 1/2 hour drive away from me and we just couldn't seem to get the old bond back.

Then one day I took my boys fishing. I had an extraordinary pain shoot through my left arm. Three places in my arm hurt very badly. I couldn't figure it out as I had done nothing to the arm to make it hurt so. As quickly as the pain came, it left and I forgot about it and just wrote it off as a fluke.

A couple of days later I was talking with my mother on the phone and she told me that Jack had fallen off a scaffolding at work and had been injured. Without missing a beat I said "He broke his left arm in three places didn't he?"

She said "yes, how did you know that?"

I told her of the incident with my arm a couple of days before and she said we always did have a connection.