My dad used to tell me that I was born under a lucky star. Perhaps this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, but I've always felt like a remarkably lucky person. And no, I don't mean "I feel so blessed to live the life I live" and blah blah blah. I don't mean anything deep or meaningful. I mean that small, insignificant, and stupidly lucky things tend to happen. For instance, I tend to drive up to a destination just as the person parked out front is leaving. I win raffles, which I enter on a whim and completely forget about. I've never broken a bone, despite inherent clumsiness and an inability to stand upright for an entire day.
Once, when I was a kid, we were at an amusement park. I think I was maybe five or six years old. I was an awkward kid, chubby, with bad hair and worse clothes. I was thoroughly uncoordinated, and I cringe when I think of myself walking, running, or (sweet lord!) throwing things. Despite this, I entered one of those impossible carnival games. You know, the one with the zillions of glass coke bottles, and you throw a ring from far-ish away and try to get it over one of the bottles? Well, on the first try, I got the ring over the bottle. And, given my choice of prize, I selected a GIGANTIC, white stuffed buffalo. And by "gigantic," I mean six feet long, four feet tall, three feet wide. I should mention that it was the beginning of our long day at the park, meaning that my mother had to carry this thing around on her back for another eight hours.
Apparently, my mother is not an inherently lucky person. But god, is she incredibly patient!
What made me remember all of this, however, was that yesterday someone mentioned a cakewalk. I don't remember who, and my apologies for not linking to you. At any rate, I had this really funny, vague memory of my first-ever cakewalk, when I was really young.
I remember the music, I remember that I was wearing a yellow dress. I remember that my mom made Sis and I stick together, and I kept trying to separate from her and get my own spot (yeah... sorry about that...) and she started crying. Finally, the cakewalk lady just told my mom to let us each have a spot. I remember each kid got a cupcake when they were out. And I remember, vividly, the disappointment of discovering that I was the last one left, and the realization that they were out of cupcakes. And the utter delight of discovering that, instead, I alone was to receive a full-sized chocolate cake.
I never said I was a particularly bright child. Just lucky.