Someone asked me the other day how many things I’ve checked off my “bucket list” — you know, that list of things you want to do before you kick the bucket. I was stymied. I couldn’t think of a single thing. That’s because I really don’t have a bucket list. That’s not to say that I don’t have some long-term goals. There are things I’d like to do to improve my life. But they’re the type of things you work on day-in, day-out, not one-time events that can be checked off a list.
Sure, I’d like to make the New York Times bestseller list. But if I don’t, I can live with that. Or more appropriate to the topic, I can die with that. What I really want is to establish a writing career, in a genre or genres I love, that provides enough income to lead a stable life. I love writing. I love the lifestyle if affords (who else, besides authors, get to work on their couch in their PJ’s every day and get paid for making sh%$ up?). That just doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that goes on a bucket list.
I have no desire to ride a bull, or jump out of a perfectly good airplane. The days when I wanted to win a world championship with one of my show horses are long gone. Travel is fun for short trips, but I don’t really like being cramped on an airplane for hours and hours, and after a few days out of town I start to miss the quiet of my farm. The only places I really have any interest in seeing are the Coliseum, maybe the ruins of Pompeii, and the glaciers from an Alaskan cruise. Guess I’m just a homebody.
I’m lucky enough to have attained most of the things I want in life: my farm, my animals, publishing books. My life now is about appreciating what I have, enjoying every day, and making the world a better place in whatever small ways I can.
Anybody else have a bucket list? What is on it?