Some people have a lucky number. Sometimes I think I do, too, but then I can't remember it next time I need it.
What is lucky for me, however, is the middle.
I am the middle of three girls, and I love this placement. If I were to be born into my family a second time, I would choose to stay in the middle.
The Middle-West is my chosen home, and unless we get better job offers, we will stay here.
I am well into my middle years, and am quite comfortable with that.
The older I get, the more middle of the road I get politically and philosophically.
I have a middle finger (two, actually) which I will never flash in anger, and a middle girth which defies my adamant orders to shrink.
The middle of the night is when I tend to awaken, and I have learned to use that time to pray for anyone whose name comes to mind.
There is a down-side to the middle sometimes. Well, okay, maybe not for me but for those around me.
I love the middle of the drive-way, and that predilection has been known to preclude Mr. Checkered from parking in the driveway, too.
I have fallen in love with the middle of the bed, and as much as that might mislead someone else, I'm really not trying to get closer to the person on the other side. It's just that I am tired of the ruts we've each created to the left and the right.