As luck would have it...

We stained our deck yesterday after waiting all summer to do it (lazy bums)...and today it rains.  Just our luck!  I don't consider myself an unlucky person but I know my husband thinks he is unlucky.  In fact, he thinks that I am a pretty lucky person.  I think luck is just a matter of perception and personal circumstance.

I was born in Cambodia in the mid 1970’s during the reign of the Khmer Rouge.  My earliest lucid childhood memory is tripping and losing all my candy while trick or treating in my first Halloween ever in Tigard, Oregon (where my family first immigrated to in 1980).  I’m pretty sure I’ve blocked out any memories of Cambodia as a survival instinct.  My mother tells me stories but I’m sure they are an edited version because after seeing “The Killing Fields” my mother said that what we’ve endured was worse.  Yikes!  So, I do feel lucky, but mainly lucky to be alive and living in the land of the free.  Cheesy, I know.

My husband on the other hand was born and raised in South Pasadena, CA.  Being the eldest child, he was raised to be the future president of the United States.  He taught himself how to read at the age of 3.  He was a child prodigy and was even written about in Los Angeles Magazine for his piano skills.  At the ripe age of 5, the world was his oyster until his parent’s shifted their energies to his younger brother born with Autism.  He went from having everything you could wish for to having almost nothing as his parents divorced a few years later.  I can understand why he feels so unlucky.

Lucky or unlucky, it doesn’t really matter to me because I feel blessed.  I married my best friend and we have a roof over our heads and food on our table.  We are blessed.