Do I even have a bucket list any more? What are my dreams for the rest of my life? I think the grind at the cube farm has killed my dreams, stifled my joy, worn my heart down as surely as my knees are worn out and ruined. I am not sixty years old so I do not think I need to be planning for The Home anytime soon. But, d-a-m-n.....
I am certain that if there is time for reflection upon my death bed, it will not be all the mean things I did that I will regret. It will be everything I did not do that will cleave my heart with a great slicing grief. I already regret a million things with my kids, mostly the time I missed from their childhood because I was working. In those days it took decades to earn another week of vacation. My poor children were hauled out of bed every morning and dragged to daycare where they had to cope with the baby future cube farmers. The great American Dream: grow up to waste away in a goddamned cube for life, most of it without a window. Yay.
Their childhood went by so fast. That is why when I see my grown son now, I must resist the urge to throw my arms around him and smother the top of his head in kisses the way I did when he was a little boy. (I have attempted this and he actually hates it). He will understand someday. I still want to advise my daughter of every possible danger and screen all of her potential plans. That goes over as well with her as the head-kissing does with her brother.
I must let my children go. They are grown now. The time I missed when they were children is truly lost and all we have is now. We have a lot of fun when we have the chance to spend time together. That means they must not be too damaged or resentful of their upbringing.
I have been considering cashing in my 401K, paying off all debt, placing Duke and Ginger in a foster home, and taking off for parts unknown on my Harley. About twenty six years ago I was at this same juncture in life. I had no debts and my daughter was almost grown. My plan was to buy a good used truck and a trailer to haul Ol' Blue, my Harley. I planned to tender my resignation upon my daughter's graduation, setting myself free to live a gypsy life until my wanderlust was spent. Before that plan was put into action, my son was born. He is worth more than three gypsy lifetimes, and all the highway miles in the world.
In present times, those suffering from wanderlust buy recreational vehicles and then travel from campground to campground. To me it is just a mobile version of the cube farm. I cannot live within a mile of anyone now and expect to get along with the neighbors, so I do not think the RV campground life would be a good fit. If I ain't happy, ain't no wandering Americans happy. But, if my hypothetical neighbors did not like me, what could they do - kick me out of the campground - in my easily mobile domicile? Adios, ya bastards.
Hmmmm. I might have to consider that idea in a bit more detail.
I am greatly dissatisfied with my life right now but I do not truly want to give up my home here in the bend of Spirit Creek. I still plan to build a nice little cabin for my golden years. To do that, I need to show up at the cube farm for a few more years. I guess the best thing to do is to take a vacation, thoroughly examine what deserves to be on my bucket list, and then just go for it.