I’m a fortunate man. Not lucky. I never win anything. Games of chance don’t seem to know me. The only lottery that I ever got selected in was the draft. But since I was already in basic training when the numbers were drawn, it didn’t really count. 

I’m fortunate in the sense that things always seem to work out for me. I fell into a big pile of pig shit one time and even that turned out okay. There have been ups and downs and setbacks and failures. Those always seemed to lead to something better. Screw ups and periods of hard times and troubles opened doors for me. The overall trajectory of my life has been decidedly positive. But then: 

That year. My year of being snakebit. Illness and injury provided proof that I had left the bounce years and entered the splat years. The death of a child, a sibling, a spouse and even the dog within a period of months. I thought that maybe I had used up my quota of good fortune. Slowly, through the grief, pain, rehabilitation, recovery, and reconnection, the arc of my life has resumed its positive bent. 

I got through all that year and I’m here. At least I was there and I’m here. Look who’s here. I’m still here.