So where is my path meandering to? Where am I headed for the next part of my life? What do I want out of the rest of my life? It would be a lot easier if I had a dream, a passion, something I’ve always wished I could do if I only had the time, and now I have the time, so why aren’t I finally doing it?
Yes, of course, I’ve always wanted to travel. I’ve been fortunate. I’ve already had a good amount of travel in my life. I’ve been all over the United States. I’ve been to foreign countries….some for a good visit; some just barely skimmed; but I can lay claim to a reasonable number. Yes, of course, I want to travel more. There are still plenty of places I’d love to go. But I also know that at the end of the day, I want to be back at home. Travel is fun and exciting and a great break from routine, but it’s a pasttime…it’s not an avocation.
I need a bucket list, but really, I don’t want to skydive or bungee jump or zip down lines. I don’t want to go on an archeological dig, or spend time in an ashram in India or join the Peace Corps. I don’t want to start my own non-profit corporation, and I don’t want to work on anyone’s political campaign (although I did entertain brief fantasies when I still believed that Obama could actually make a difference), and I have no desire to attend Woodstock or the Burning Man thing.
I don’t want to ride a bike through Italy ( I certainly wouldn’t mind a gondola ride), and I don’t want to hike the entire Appalachian Trail starting in Maine and ending in Georgia. I don’t want to take a road trip down Route 66. I don’t want a dog, or a cat, or a ferret. I don’t want to save whales or tsetse flies or spotted anythings.
I do want to take my grandchildren to Disneyworld.
I don’t want to raise sheep or llamas or alpacas. I don’t want to buy an old farmhouse and fix it up. I don’t want to sail around the anything. I don’t want to move to Tuscany or Paris or Santa Fe. I don’t want to learn how to cook with truffles.
I would still like to write a possibly readable novel. Or write magazine articles. Or write memoirs that will scandalize my children and grandchildren but will make my great-great-greats giggle and wish they knew me.
I do think sometimes about going back to school. Not for a new career; just because I like taking classes. I like learning. I was looking at the paralegal program at LCC the other day. Just thinking.
I’d still like a recumbent tricycle. I still want to go contra dancing in St. Croix. I drool over the travel catalogs that describe cruises to Alaska and tours to Costa Rica. I still want to be thin. I’ll settle for thinner. Really, I’ll settle for healthy and fit, whatever that is.
I want to be a good daughter while I still am lucky enough to have my mom. I want to be a good mother, and oh my goodness, I want my daughters-in-law to never have to complain about me to their husbands! I want to cherish my grandkids and be cherished by them. I want the significant man in my life to continue to think I’m beautiful. I want my kids to still ask for my advice now and then, and once in a while, I want them to actually follow that advice.
I really want the life I have right now. I just want it to be even more, even fuller, even richer. I don’t want to just fill my time; I want fulfilling time.
I guess I’ve gotten way off the original topic of my hip replacement. It seems a natural seque to me, and I am opting to let my writing voice guide me. But in case a reader is still hungering for condition updates, I will just mention that today I did two separate walks of half a mile each. If I was limping, I couldn’t tell. The cane was left at home.