In the small town where my sister lives, someone has won an extraordinary amount of money on the lottery. An extraordinary amount.
Really, you have to feel sorry for them. Their life has just finished. If it was known who they were, their kids would no longer be safe, they would be besieged by needy people asking for help, their families would fall apart as people struggled with the unfairness of their generosity (or perceived lack thereof).
It's a small town. They'd have to leave, quickly and quietly moving out of state to start new lives, gain new friends, hoping all the while that the extent of their wealth was never known.
Gaining that is losing the lottery of life.
Sure, I'd like a bit more cash. I'd like to be able to buy a slightly nicer house than the one I rent, drive a slightly newer car, not worry about affording holidays. The usual things.
And then I count my real wealth.
I was chatting last week to a friend, someone I first met through my current work, and I said - the important thing is the people you meet. He retorted - no, you meet some jerks. The important thing is the friends you make.
On this trip I've spent some great time working with friends, talking with friends, catching up and relaxing with friends. Above all - eating with friends. I will need to exercise when I get home; I have been fed like a king by friends and family alike! And I'm talking about the food, and I'm talking about the relationships too.
Like everyone else, there are days I dream about a better bank balance.
And then I see how rich I am. And I'm grateful.