Today, I am lucky. Very lucky. Why? Because I fell off my horse (entirely my own fault - my stirrup got caught in the catch of a gate, horse tore through gate, I did not). And - and this is the lucky bit - I wasn't badly hurt! So I'm lucky.
if I hadn't fallen off the horse at all, no-one would have told me I was lucky. When you come back from a ride (or a car journey, or even a walk) unscathed, no-one tells you you're lucky. But have an accident of any kind, and if you're still breathing, you're lucky.
Seven years ago, I broke my back. And boy, was I lucky! Everyone - but everyone - told me how lucky I was. I could have been killed, broken my neck, been rendered helpless or my brain turned to mush. But lo! I only had to spend weeks in hospital (and in pain), so I was lucky. So many people told me I was lucky that I began to feel that falling downstairs (I know. How unglamorous is that?) was a really lucky thing to do. But while I didn't mind saying myself that I was lucky, I really objected to people with lovely, whole unbattered spines telling me I was lucky.
I'm beginning to stiffen up now. Having caught the horse (who really was lucky since he'd wanted to go home anyway), walked (a long way) back to the yard where he lives, made sure he was all right, and got myself home, the bumps are beginning to make themselves known.
But I must keep telling myself: I'm lucky.