As important as our time together, is, for me, our time apart. That is to say, the drive by myself - between two to four hours depending on the destination we choose. This year's trip took me four hours north to our parents lake house in PA. Eight (more with traffic) total hours alone to sing at the top of lungs with the radio, organize the week ahead, and, for better or worse, think.
And oh, how the mind does wander.
One thing that kept replaying itself, like Adele on every local channel up the east coast, was the fact that this week I'm going to be 45. Forty five! Why does it sound so much older than I actually feel? Am I truly middle aged? What does that even mean?
It literally means that half my life is over. Well, I did quite a bit in the first half. I don't think I really missed out on much. And Hell, if I only accomplish half of what I did in the first half, in the second half, that wouldn't be half bad. [Long road trips with no Pepsi leave me talking like Dr. Seuss apparently.]
But I think what it "means" is it's time to pull out the bucket list. You know that list of things to do before you die. Pleasant, isn't it. But like a good organizer should, if I plan accordingly and ahead of schedule, I have an excellent chance of completing the list and still being around to talk about it ad nauseam to my great grand kids.
So, my birthday gift from me to me this year, is to actually write my bucket list. I know, I thought I would have had one by now too. I guess I didn't have my bucket list on my to-do list.
Check back in the next week for, what I hope will be, the complete list. I can guarantee you won't see anything about climbing a mountain or running with a charging horned animal. But that's all I've got so far.