A Bucket List for Everyday.

So... as I was waiting for my echocardiogram at 6am this morning... I was stumbled across this blog that one of my friends had shared... so before you read any further....

READ THIS, and especially make sure you go to "Avery's Bucket List".

Even the second time, I am brought to tears, right here in the damn library computer lab where I am supposed to be watching a 2 hour podcast on Diuretics. But, instead, I just couldn't stop thinking about that little girl. And about love.

Love is such a weird thing. Who can describe it? Who can really REALLY define it? Do we even know it when we feel it? Do we throw it around too much? Do we try and hide it? Is there love at first sight? Or is it something deeper that grows within you each day? Or is it both?

I feel at a loss for words, which is highly unusual for me. And also humbled, very very humbled, by the love shown for and through this precious child. Not even a whole year old and already she has lived a fuller life than many of us. Than me. I wish I could live like that. Like every day was my last. Like there was NO TOMORROW. Like all that mattered was the here and now. I could fill my soul with every little thing that mad me happy and feel ALIVE.

I wouldn't be scared.

I would let myself LOVE.

I would smile every second and probably kiss strangers on the cheek. And kiss not strangers even more. Because I wanted to and because I had the time.... because I would make the time!

It's so funny to think that I imagine I would have "more time" with that kind of death sentence. That the imminence of death would give me more time to live. 

But, why? Why let my own life get in the way of living? Now I know what you are thinking, "geez, Olivia, could you really talk about this more? Get off you damn high horse and quit telling us how to live  our lives! We get it... you are having some sort of existential crisis lately, and we are sick of it...and now I have totally unbookmarked this s**t!"And that is fine. Do it! Unbookmark me! But for some reason, I keep coming back to this topic. Living. But not just living, living WELL.

At 23 I feel like I have my whole life ahead of me, career, family, etc etc, but what if I don't? Who am I to say my time won't be up tomorrow? I have been given the precious gift of life by God... but am I taking my sweet time to unwrap it? I think I just need to rip that paper to shreds and open it NOW! (I feel like if it isn't on Avery's bucket list this should be: tearing through presents on Christmas morning and getting the wrapping paper everywhere!)

And this isn't like Christmas morning at the Morin's, where every box is numbered and catalogued by my amazing and organized mother. It is a free for all. Which to open first? Am I even opening the right one? Is this EVEN FOR ME? What if it's empty? Just tell me what's inside, please, Mommy, is this ok to open now?

But, no one is there to tell us what is inside, how to open it, when to open it, or even what to do with it once we open it? But, do it anyway. I promise it will make you smile in the end knowing you have uncovered every secret (and some not so secrets) that life was dying to show you.

Do this: close you eyes and think of little baby Avery. Think of her parents wish for her to go on a fist date, to go trick or treating, to get a tattoo, to snuggle with Daddy, to shop with Mommy, to have a sleepover. Now do this: think of the one thing you want to do with your life everyday. Holidays can come early and spontaneous study breaks can happen anytime. Just do something, everyday, so when you look back on your life you have no regrets.

A bucket list for everyday. 

Today mine was: hold hands. Tomorrow... hmmm... who knows. Get to living everybody. And don't worry about that wrapping paper getting everywhere, because who has the time to worry about that, plus the paper looks kind of pretty on the floor anyway. (and yes that is a metaphor).
Olivia

Iron&Wine "The Trapeze Swinger"

But please, remember me, my misery

And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain and chasing trains
The colored birds above their running
In circles around the well and where it spells
On the wall behind St. Peter
So bright, on cinder gray, in spray paint
"Who the hell can see forever?"