To Live Doesn't Mean You're Alive

When I was four, I would spell aloud the words I knew to my grandmother: "L-O-V-E" and "L-U-C-Y" (my childhood name then), "G-O-D" and "Y-O-U."

Then, I would mix up letters and asked what it spelled: "L-U-V-E"?
"Nothing," she'd say. That's not a word. It surprised me how many words I could spell that weren't words. The odds of getting NOTHING seemed slim in my head, but, apparently, there are a lot of combos that don't mean diddly.

"L-U-C-K-Y" I announced, knowing full well a wildcard "K" mid-name was just silly. But, no! It was LUCKY. Lucy to Lucky just like that. I tucked the secret under the kitchen chair. I am always very close to luck, I thought.

Often, when I'm jotting "ALICE" quickly, it slumps into "ALIVE."
Lucky Lucy, Alive Alice.

And I will retire with the crown. Yes.
No I'm not lucky--I'm blessed. Yes.