The Bucket

An odd child, I’m not afraid to say it. Normalcy was not considered. Tall, lanky, full of busy, I decided early I wasn’t much to look at so I had better be interesting. Interesting wasn’t difficult. Self control was my challenge. My early years had some trauma but when you are seeing through your own eyes you don’t realize others have a different view.
I was almost five years old when I came face to face with my fathers tragic accident. It was Easter Sunday and my Auntie had taken us on a walk, I was never one to walk so I skipped ahead. Looking over an embankment I watched as a specialized piece of equipment rolled down a mountainside ravine. My father was demonstrating the piece of equipment to three other men and they were all thrown out. My father was smashed right before my four year old eyes. It was graphic and loud and senseless.
The accident was discovered by, I don’t know whom, but the moments of discovery and rescue was such that the adults did not realize I had watched it all. There was much shock and swirling of events and the day turned to years and it changed me. It made me brave.
My father lived, not always well, absolutely not easily, but he lived. I decided at a young age, to embrace each day.
People talk of a “Bucket List”. I have never made one. My plan was simply not to bucket, at all. I also did not daydream of childhood things such as marriage and children or what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was determined how ever to grab the moments, wrestle them fully, and look forward to the next. If I imagine a bucket I only see it as a vessel waiting to be filled, not waiting to be kicked.

Today I have run away with my husband, Adventuring in Alaska. It has not been a destination thought in my mind but the excitement has caught and I look forward to filling my bucket. Will write more later, I can’t wait to see what we will see.