Sometimes I think about all that we've endured and survived, and it takes my breath away.
Because it's never survived by all of us, is it?
We're the planes that made it home from war, riddled with bullet holes on less-essential parts.
We say to ourselves, look how resilient we were!
As if everyone cut down just wasn't resilient enough.
We're not still here because we're any better than the people we've lost.
But we *are* here, facing the next test, and the next.
And that has to be enough.
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I often think about all the friends that did not make it.
And why I did. Was I "better", "more equipped?
Nope, No, Nada. In almost every case it was serendipity or luck. It had nothing to do with strength, resiliency, grit, or fortitude.