|The Journal Entry by Muller (photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)|
My son asked me the other night if I had a bucket list. This struck me as funny at first.
After all, he’s eight– what the heck does he know about bucket lists? I am 40 and don’t think that much about them. Of course, I saw the movie and understand the expression, but I can’t say I ever bothered to make one.
Partly because when I make grocery lists, I inevitably leave them on the kitchen counter and when I get home I find they are only useful for checking off the items I forgot to buy at the store. I am not sure what happens if you lose your bucket list. Do you forget what’s so important for you to see or do, the way I forget to buy Q-tips?
I am not that girl anyway. I don’t have extravagant plans. No desires to bungee jump, or go on safari, or make millions of dollars. I realize that makes me kind of a bore. But I’m afraid of heights, hate getting bit by mosquitos and presume I would also hate getting bitten by an African hyena. As far as millions of dollars,
I’m more neutral about the idea. Still, that much money seems complicated, and the pursuit of it more so.
Why would I include complicated on my list?
My son’s question seemed random, but then I thought about the last few days. My husband and I enjoyed a nice beach getaway and spent much of our conversation reflecting on our lives. Maybe if we had a bucket list we would have been looking forward, but instead, we talked a lot about how content we are right now.
Conitnue reading at Lara's blog Mercy Me! I've got work to do.
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