One of the worst things about existing is knowing that I will never be able to do everything I want to do. Ever since Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson set out to race against their own mortality and accomplish their veritable “bucket lists” in 2007, that term has been beaten to the ground by people who long to climb Mt. Everest and go skydiving. But climbing a mountain is hard work, and skydiving is scary.
I prefer a more attainable bucket list. The first thing that comes to mind is to live in a coastal city. South Arkansas has its perks but I’ve been landlocked far too long. My visits to coastal regions have been few and far between, but I certainly prefer the ocean’s horizon to infinite pine trees. I’d also like to visit another country. People were sailing the seven seas and exploring uncharted territories long before the convenience of jet planes existed, so I’d have no excuse for myself if I were to die without exploring Earth beyond the United States. The last thing on my very short bucket list is to learn to play the harp, because they look neat and sound nice. Unfortunately, I’ve seen their prices and fear that my dreams of becoming the next Joanna Newsom may never be realized.
If my bucket list remains incomplete as I draw my last breath, I won’t be upset. To me, the idea of such a list is innocuous and fun - far from the grave to-do list that some represent it as. However, I must admit that checking off the few items on my list would feel quite rewarding, so I’ll try my best to save some cash for a nice harp.
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