I must admit, I never really had a Bucket List. I never really had any goals in life either, apart from raising my children to be happy, physically, mentally and emotionally balanced and healthy adults, with a clear sense of right and wrong.
Now, as I approach the big 40 (which is far less scary than the big 30 was), I find myself with goals AND a bucket list. I am not entirely sure how I feel about either of these things.
Actually, I am going to lump them in together. Because essentially, a Bucket List, and a List of Goals are the same thing. They are just wearing different clothes. The List of Goals is the tradie, with dirt under his nails, and his hair all mussed up from grotty jobs he has driven to in his ute. The Bucket List is the sauve, suited and groomed gentleman of the evening, the one who whisks you off in a limo for a romantic evening.
So, my Bucket List is a tradie who scrubs up well. And he drives his ute at night, to whisk me away for a romantic evening down the pub.
And here he is, in all his (rather short, but nonetheless sweet) glory:
Live and work in another country for at least a year
Get my 'perfect' job, a mix of office and field work
Connect with my children as adults
Visit the cities of my dreams - New Orleans/Prague/Dublin/London/Marrakech/Paris
Have a white Christmas (even though I despise snow)
See my Mum married and settled
Watch my grandkids grow up
Enjoy seeing my children as parents