Once you reach a certain age — oh...maybe sometime in your middle 40's — it occurs to you that you have a lot less life ahead of you than you have behind you. You look over the obituaries in the paper, and you notice the ages of the dearly departed — and sometimes that number isn't so far from your own age. Sometimes it is even a smaller number.
And when you start noticing the less-than-vague hints of new aches and pains throughout the day, it becomes pretty clear that the quality of the life ahead is not going to be the same quality of the life in the rear view mirror. Which is annoying.
That's when you start thinking about all those leftover things in life you've always wanted to do, but couldn't...because you were too busy raising a family and taking care of parents with Alzheimer's and going to work and all the other in-between stuff that happens after childhood and before geriatric-hood.
You realize you've got stuff to do and a little time to do it, so you get busy. You start writing your bucket list.
There are all kinds of ideas that roll around in the bottom of my bucket. Things like — "be in a play at community theater" or "learn American Sign Language" or "touch a snake and not have a heart attack." After all, a bucket list item doesn't have to be about visiting someplace new or seeing something you've never seen before. It can be about overcoming a fear or achieving something or even enjoying some small pleasure in life. Some of it I've already accomplished — but I often add something new. Last week I did that.
One word: ZUMBA.