In February 2013, on the way home from my best friend's wedding in St. Lucia, a tractor hit our bus a couple of feet from the passenger cabin. The truck driver who caused it did not survive. Five years later, lightning hit our house while we were inside. Ten years later, I lost the friend whose wedding put me on that bus. This is an essay about the near misses we see, the far greater number we never hear about, and why surviving does not mean you were chosen, but does leave you with a choice.