We set aside three days each work week for what we call “mommy daddy time”. We turn on a thirty minute program for the littles and then we sneak out to the front porch, wine glasses in hand. The moment we sit down there is an audible exhale, each of us breathing out a sigh of relief over the quiet time together. A few minutes are occupied with the business of rehashing our respective days–our small successes and failures. With those out of the way, we move on to big plans. Some might call them dreams, but we take a different approach. Dreams are things that may or may not come true; plans are steps towards fruition.
I don’t know whether it’s age or restlessness, but lately we’ve felt the tug of a wild undercurrent. Or maybe it’s less undercurrent and more subsequent chapter. As if someone were reading our story and they turned the page to Part II and we’re hanging on the edge of a paragraph.
We started a list. Quite purposefully, I penned tiny empty boxes next to each bullet. All those empty boxes lined up like expectations.
Here’s our criteria:
- Identifiable destination
- Tangible activity
We wanted our list to read more like a to-do than a bucket. For each item, there has to be a cue–a precise moment of accomplishment. So far, we’ve come up with seven.
- Wine tasting in Sonoma/Napa
- Egyptian pyramids via camel
- Baptized in Jordan River
- Shoot bow & arrow in Scotland
- Renew vows on white sand Hawaiian beach
- Deliver gifts to kids in third world country
- Sleep under a mosquito net in Africa
It’s far from finished. In fact, we’ve only just begun.