My Bucket

My Bucket

For several years the trend has become all about the “bucket list.” Dare I say I am probably one of the few people to never complete such a list. The plans I have made for the future can fit into a Dixie cup at this point. When I was younger, I could have filled a dump truck with all the great plans I had for myself.

Then life happened.

Now, I never say, “never,” because that too means I have made plans. But, I know how quickly life changes things, and I think the better route is to appreciate the here and now, and all that happy-go-lucky stuff. Besides, it’s too overwhelming to try and keep up with the Jones. And to be quite honest, I don’t feel like setting myself up for disappointment.

For example, I think it would be super awesome to experience the Egyptian Pyramids up close and personal, but let’s be honest, the chances of me doing that while I am young enough to physically accomplish it are pretty slim – unless I hit the lottery (which I am not planning on doing anytime soon.)

And, even if I had a genie to grant me a few wishes, I have been to several places around the globe enough to know that it is probably a disappointment on some level. In real life it’s probably all touristy and roped off and looks nothing like the pictures in the textbooks I have seen my whole life. I can’t imagine doing that kind of thing alone. I also cannot imagine dragging two teenagers and a seven-year old…

In a book and through a documentary, I can see the Pyramids in the beautiful light which they were meant to be seen. I can see them with a bird’s eye view. I can go into the crawl spaces without wiping cobwebs out of my hair and enduring, what I can only imagine, is a ripe stink of a thousand year-old tomb. I can see what they may have looked like in the distant past with all the junk PhotoShop-ped out.

Of course, if the opportunity arises, you bet your sweet A$$ I will be there.

Facing a Bucket List is like writing a book where you are determining the ending. What’s wrong with calling them dreams or goals? I don’t want to get to the end of my life lugging around a bucket full of an unfulfilled to-do list. My dreams are vivid and alive. They are also temporary and fleeting. Once in while, you have one that keeps reoccurring. They are ever-changing, just like me. They are more beautiful than I could have concocted, just like life. Sometimes, they even come true.

My bucket makes a good planter. Perhaps I will throw some dirt in it and plant some seeds. It will keep me in control of what comes next. I will be looking out for the weeds. I will have to water and tend my dreams if I want them to blossom.

If anything, I know in the end, I will have some flowers for my grave instead of garbage pail full of “if onlys.”