Author’s Note:
With the arrival of the new year, I decided to revisit some of the essays I’ve written for one of my writing groups. The following piece from May of last year, which I’ve edited only slightly, is a reminder of how blessed I have been – and continue to be.
I’m the first to admit that being an indie author can certainly be a challenge. There are days when the writing flows and days when it doesn’t; times when I look at my sales statistics and wonder where all my readers are; and brutally honest moments when I realize Saint of Lost Souls might not make any best-seller lists – but all in all, life is good.
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Too Much for a Bucket (List)
I’ve never been a fan of bucket lists, which anyone who knows me well might find surprising. I mean, I have no aversion to death or dying and know my number’s going to come up eventually. But even though I’m a die-hard list maker, I’ve never made a written or even a mental bucket list. The experiences I’ve had that might show up on other people’s lists have come about by pure happenstance, by my endless curiosity, and from my love of learning and travel.
Several years ago, one of my sisters invited me along when she tried tandem skydiving for the first time to celebrate a milestone birthday. Intimately harnessed and buckled to my laid-back, baby-faced instructor, I joked that we should at least know each other’s middle names, given the circumstances. And observing the six of us, three pairs of students and instructors, crammed into a tiny plane nearly on top of one another, I couldn’t resist saying, “One wrong move, and this could very easily turn into an orgy.”
A Northern Virginia hiking group that I met with on a weekly basis offered the opportunity to go white-water rafting on the Gauley River in West Virginia, so I signed up, eager to try a new experience. A few years later, my daughter invited me to tag along when she and a bunch of pals went on their first trip down the New River. My daughter’s been my partner in crime on a few other adventures, too, including a parasail over Maui and a zipline over Fremont Street in Las Vegas.
Less adventurous but equally awe-inspiring experiences include attending Easter Mass at Notre Dame in Paris (before the fire), and standing at the top of the steps of Sacre Coeur, taking in the panorama of early-morning Paris arising from her slumber. A dear friend treating me to an unforgettable birthday dinner at the Jules Verne restaurant in the Eiffel Tower, followed a few nights later by an enchanting dinner cruise on the Seine. Paris at night really is breathtaking. More somber destinations included the September 11th Memorial in NYC and the USS Arizona in Pearl Harbor.
There have been natural wonders –
I’ve climbed the mist-laden heights of Huayna Picchu to look down in awe at the stunning architecture of Machu Picchu; I’ve walked the basalt formations of Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland and lain flat on the windswept Burren to get a safer view of the Cliffs of Moher; and had the same spine-tingling sensation when gazing out across the breathtaking expanses of the Grand Canyon and the thunderous Niagara Falls.
And manmade wonders –
I’ve made my way among jostling crowds to view Michelangelo’s masterpiece on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and worried about the future of the slowly-sinking marvel of Venice as I navigated acqua alta in St. Mark’s Square and took a gondola ride with my mother and sister. When visiting the Louvre, I appreciated the Mona Lisa for what she is, but the sight of Nike of Samothrace, or Winged Victory, took my breath away.
My post-grad dissertation permitted me the luxury of visiting late-medieval Scottish palace and castle gardens, all in the name of research. A fascination for illuminated manuscripts and medieval tapestries led me to Dublin’s Trinity College to see The Book of Kells; and the Cluny Museum in Paris, the Cloisters in New York, and Stirling Castle in Scotland to see The Lady and the Unicorn tapestries. It’s amazing what you can get away with under the guise of research.
My military background and appreciation of history and ceremony have drawn me to the spectacle of Edinburgh’s Military Tattoo; compelled me to visit the Tower of London’s ‘Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red’ exhibit, where over 800,000 ceramic poppies were displayed, one for each of the British lives lost during WWI; and which, quite by chance, the late Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip were visiting at the time.
It’s the unplanned, random events that my family, friends, and I still remember and talk about most, though: picking tiny, sweet Maine blueberries for pancakes we’d later cook over a breakfast campfire; laughing over wine, bread, and cheese while we did a week’s worth of laundry in a Tuscan laundromat; the elderly Italian pastry shop owner who, seeing our delight at finding a beloved pastry in her Rome shop, refused to take our money; and watching tiny black lambs frolic over the hills of the Lake District while on a ‘bimble’ with a friend from Bath.
There are pictures, postcards, and passport stamps – of places and experiences that might make a bucket list.
There also are moments in time – of unforgettable, treasured memories.
More than a bucket of any size, even filled to overflowing, could possibly hold.
Until next time ~ Sending peace, love, and best wishes for a blessed 2026.
Trish McGarrahan
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