Luck and tragedy

Someone once told me, “You’re lucky.”

And yet, am I? What is luck? To bet on the odds and yet still win? To take the risks and benefit much?

Or is it because I took the time to carefully analyze my choices and decide with diligence? Or because there are so many near misses and I just happen to still survive?

Or is it because I am paranoid when I leave my apartment always checking for three things—wallet, keys, and phone. Without keys, I cannot get inside. Without a phone, I cannot call for help. Without a wallet, I cannot identify myself, put something down as collateral, or bribe someone to help me get my keys or phone.

A few years ago in Pittsburgh in my bedroom on the top floor of a 3 story townhouse, the doorbell rang as I was sleeping. 3 am or so. It was ringing incessantly. I stumbled downstairs past my other roommates and opened the door in a half-asleep state. I opened the front door and my roommate came in, profusely apologizing for being locked out. I stumbled back upstairs to go back to sleep.

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