As a kid, whenever something went wrong (most often it was the car running out of gas/breaking down on the side of the road) my mom would always say, ?aren?t we lucky?? And then point out how close we were to the next gas station, or how we had a spare tire in the car, or how the tow truck arrived in less than an hour, or how we got off the road before anyone hit us, etc.

Aren?t we lucky?

I recently realized I say this all the time, too, and always have. Like back when we slept in a room so small it only had space for the bed* I?d always snuggle up behind T and whisper, ?we are so lucky.? And then point out that we were healthy, in love, free from ?the man,? able to wear slippers to the post office, had a freezer full of popsicles, etc.

Even in crisis this phrase is always the first off my lips.

When our house caught on fire and we lost everything I stood in the driveway with our charred bits around us, breathing through my sleeve because the smell was awful and said, ?we are so lucky. The dogs were outside. All the windows were closed so it was contained to the first floor. All we lost was stuff.? That?s how I truly felt ? it was a miracle that the windows were all closed because it was summer?and a miracle that the dogs were outside because they would normally have been sleeping under the kitchen table.

A couple of years before the fire, in the South of France, our rental car was broken into and all of our stuff stolen (not just bags, journals, etc, but passport, driver?s license, checkbook, plane tickets. . .). It was the first day of our trip and we had just driven 8 hours straight down from Paris in a steady gray rain. When we finally hit sunshine, we stopped by the sparkling Mediterranean Sea to eat a picnic lunch on the beach and plan out how we would meander through the region for the next two weeks.

Shattered glass surrounded our car that was empty of all our belongings. What did I say?

?We?re so lucky.? Because T had his wallet in his pocket so we had some cash, and his drivers?s license. Because no one was hurt. Because I speak French and we could manage our way through.**

So yesterday, as my morning walk with the dogs was coming to a close and the house was in view, Henry leapt off the path into the woods for a final round of dash-and-chase with Ollie. It?s a game they play all the time at top speed. It?s a game that makes me laugh out loud as they do the funniest shit?especially Henry with incredible feints and dodges.

Except yesterday Henry stopped with a loud yelp. He?d stabbed himself on a sharp branch.

He?s on anti-biotics and restricted movement for the next 10 days. Poor guy was definitely in pain last night; it?s gotta hurt.

And yeah, we?re lucky. It wasn?t his eye.

Thanks mom, you gave me an extraordinary gift and it helps me through this life.

*Years and years later when we renovated the house people would come into this space that had been our bedroom for five years and say with absolute disbelief, ?you slept in here? And there was a bed??

**Although let it be said, when we stopped for food on the long drive back to Paris that same day, I insisted we eat at a Burger King cause Fuck the French the Fucking Thieves!

ON ANOTHER NOTE:
I can't believe I have to explain a reference-- it bothers me so much that the new banner is probably short-lived, but the lyric "catch the blue train all the way to Kokomo" is from Robbie Robertson's song "Somewhere Down the Crazy River." (If you don't know it-- you're missing out on some fantastic sex). Although the Beach Boys do have a song called Kokomo, this lyric DOES NOT refer to that little ditty. Grr. Last night T brought my attention to the possibility of people not knowing which song I mean. Gah.

Hate. Explaining. References.

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