What are the Chances?

It seems preposterous that something could go right when there are so many ways for it to go wrong.

What are the chances that that one seed grew exactly there, and grew just the right number of branches in the right places? What are the chances that the bark would be so rough, or the leaves that supple shade of purple? What are the chances that I would be exactly the way I am right now, down to the very last freckle? And what are the chances that I would be sitting exactly where I am, writing this exactly the way I'm writing it, thinking of someone who until this year was just as real to me as Harry Potter?