Bucket List

So it’s been a year last week since we got our notice to move out of our apartment.

I remember that day so well.

I don’t want to, but it’s hard to forget.

The only thing that really mattered to me was that my mother would be cancer free, my husband’s company would not go bankrupt on his watch and that we would find a nice place to live.

That was it. My bucket list.

Nothing else really mattered. 

I didn't want anything else. 

For me, the ability to lay my head in a place called home, without shitty screaming neighbhours, slumlords trying to pull a fast one, or a property whose tortured ghosts wailed through the night.

All I wanted to was to be calm. In my apartment. Find my center, rebuild my crumbling self esteem, battle weary body and fragmented soul.

And  now that I am in my new home, i can work on the real bucket list:

- A trip to Greece, swimming around the islands, scuba diving in the ocean, with the sharks, dophins

- Have a solo photography show that travels throughout Europe (and i of course, would travel with it)

- write my memoirs

- see a volcano up close

- make movies that make me respected, not necessarily famous (although that would be nice...)

- Cross (2 countries) country road trip by myself

I’m beginning to find and harvest those dreams again. This is only the tear stained, water damaged pages that survived the move. 

But I’m working on it.

Putting on a new coat of color and opening up the windows of life…