Only If You're Lucky

by Stacy Willingham

That’s the beauty of fiction, of words: when your life becomes too boring, too bland, too hard or depressing or chaotic or calm, they allow you to simply float away and inhabit another, try it on for size. With so many options so ripe for the picking, it would be a shame to only taste just one.

I guess that’s the thing about grief, loss: it changes everything, not just you. Colors are duller, foods are blander.

The words don’t sing like they used to.

You’re only young once, and only if you’re lucky.