Before I Kick the Bucket

Bucket List, Schmucket List.

I’m probably one of three people on the planet who doesn’t have a bucket list.

So shoot me.

I’ve tried to make a list. I’ve started one. There’s one thing on it. I look at it and smirk. The smirk morphs into a self-deprecating laugh, which then mutates into a sinister shoulder devil.

The shoulder devil proceeds to tell me what a loser I am. The little dude whispers that I am what my life hands me. He murmurs things about obligations, commitments, real life and being self-less. I know, not your usual shoulder devil by any stretch. This one comes from the ranks of the Discouragement Platoon. He uses whatever he can get his hot little hands on.

He’s been quite effective so far in keeping me from even considering possibilities. Everything I can think of sounds unrealistic, undoable, pie-in-the-sky silly to me.

I don’t even start the list, I think of it in terms of questions and this shoulder devil smacks them down.

• Write a novel? Right…that’s funny. When would you have time for that and who would read it anyway?
• Hike the Grand Canyon? Are you kidding me? You’re seriously considering hauling this body down and back out of the biggest hole on the planet? Don’t you get out of breath going up a couple of flights of stairs?
• Explore Alaska? Sure, right after you scrape together the rent money and sweep up what’s left over.
• Build a cabin in the mountains? Silly girl, perks like that are for the beautiful, smart, adventurous people.
• Eat at a five-star restaurant? Um, aren’t you the meatloaf and pot roast queen?
• See the Statue of Liberty in person? Remember you don’t like crowds, big cities, the east coast?
• Go on a week-long mountain bike trip? That’s really funny, have you seen what you look like on a bike? 

Okay. So maybe I shouldn’t aim so high. Maybe my bucket list could take on a more realistic, more achievable, more down-to-earth feel.

For instance?

Like, oh, I don’t know.

A bucket list by definition is usually big important stuff, right?

So I’m stumped.

I could try looking at it a different way. What if I had less than a year to live? Then what would be on my list. My shoulder devil growls a low deep gurgle of aggravation and simmers himself into a poof of steam, disappearing for a while.

Phew.

• See my other two daughters get married. Enjoy that look of bliss on their faces. Throw a big party for each of them.
• See my granddaughter whose arrival is due in 3 months.
• Tell my kids that I love them more than life itself.
• Spend time with the other two Grands. Lights in my life!
• Make sure MSH knows I cherish him. Thank him for the wild ride we’ve been on together. It would have been horrific without him.
• Hug my Mom and Dad and try to infuse eternal gratitude into the hug.
• Hang out with my siblings, chatting, laughing, reliving the good old days.
• Apologize. Mend fences.
• Write down everything I can get out of my head and on to paper about who I was, who I am, what I learned.
• Laugh a bunch.

That would do it. It’s what’s really the big stuff. The big stuff that matters in the long run, in the short run, and while running out of breath.

Maybe I should get started.

That other stuff, may or may not happen. Whatever.

But the big, important stuff, I need to get ‘er done.