Sitting in my car yesterday I just happened to be on the right radio station to observe the minute silence for our Australian Cricket Legend the late Richie Benaud, who passed away overnight, aged 84 years. There wouldn’t be many people in Australia, and dare I say the cricket world who wouldn’t know who he is. The man who wore white, the off white, the ivory and the beige. The man who said two for two hundred and twenty-two with such an individual sound through a pursed lip; many of us replicated it, over and over. He was and will for ever be the voice of Australian Cricket commentary. Sitting there in silence I succumbed to something that completely took me by surprise. A pang of grief and loss. I never really knew him obviously. I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m sure I am not alone, he will be missed.
I guess it just got me thinking about how short life is. Eighty four years really isn’t that long. Well I don’t think it is. All my life until now I have looked forward to birthdays, to reaching milestones, my sixteenth, my eighteenth and even my thirtieth birthday. It’s after you reach the near forty mark that you start thinking, fuck, I might only have forty years left… that last forty really fucking flew by. And, then I start thinking about how perhaps I wont live until eighty, what if I only get to sixty or worse like Mum, bloody 52? Never in my life have I been more aware of my age; more aware of just how quick things happen; more aware of my own mortality and of the mortally of those around me, my husband, my sisters, my friends and family. It’s ridiculous to focus on, and not even remotely beneficial for my sanity but I can’t be the only one who doesn’t think about this. Or am I?
As relationships I once relied on and held precious fall apart, today I focus more on what is still around me. Fuck all those who don’t give a rats arse about me, I don’t have time to waste on it wondering if they will ever try to fix the wrong, I clearly don’t have the years left to waste worrying and if I’m not worth their worrying then they sure as shit aren’t worth mine. Right? Yesterday I thought differently, I wondered if it was worth my worry. Not today. Not anymore. My Great Uncles death three days ago along side Richie’s a day later has been a catalyst for my self-preservation. Both lived to a ripe old age… I hope I do too.
If I live another forty years I’ll be happy. Fuck the unobtainable bucket list that most can’t afford. Ticking a bunch of things off a long list of things I’ll never be able do wont ever make me happy, it’ll just make me unhappy and broke-r. So I’ve decided to do a no cost obtainable Fucket List; and here it is.
- Have my long over due echocardiogram done… yes I know, fuck it, it’s not really my idea of fun either but at least I’ll know my ticker is still okay.
- Tell my boys and my hubby that I love them every day. I tell them everyday anyways but fuck it, they’re gunna keep hearing it. I never heard it as a kid.
- I’m going to jump off the Altona Pier, yup fuck that too, just not at low tide!
- Play a game of Scrabble and use a 10 point tile on a triple points square TWICE in the same game! Yeah take that Scrabble board. You watch me slap down those words zoo and xray on your bright red squares.
- Borrow a Nintendo Console and play Mario Bros all day. Housework? Fuck it, I’m going to clock that shit!
- Learn a second language, thinking Greek or Italian. Been on my mind most of my life so fuck it, I’m going to give that a whirl.
- Touch a snake, yes a real one. I’m shitting proverbial bricks already!
- Finish the lace edging on my Great Grandmothers tablecloth, (that she started). It’s been sitting in my closet for almost ten years so fuck it all, I better just get it done yeah?
- Drink a pot of Stout.. crook! Ugh, fuck it, why don’t I just skull it…? Yeah why don’t I? Who’s bloody idea was that?
- Ride a horse again… I’ll just wear all three of my bras, fuck it, maybe my tits will rip right off!
- Donate blood. I hate needles but hey, fuck it, let’s go get a free bickie and cup of tea.
- Run 10 kilometres again. Probably going to take me a while to get to that stage again coz fuck I’m unfit.
- Eat a packet of Popping Candy. Might seem simple to you but I couldn’t stand the sensation as a kid. My head will explode.
- Change my bed linen for seven days in a row, just so I can pretend I’m in a swanky motel. Who doesn’t fucking love the feel of fresh sheets?
- I’m going to chuck a party for all my “Goddies”, all seven of them just coz I want to.
- Weld some steel together. LOL yeah I’m serious, I reckon I’d be good at it. While I’m at it I might even use a grinder and grind that shit too! I’m gunna look rocking in my leg warmers and leotard doing Flash Dance in Ben’s shed.
- If I can find a friend we’re going to play Elastics, like the good old primary school days. I was sooo fucking good at that game.
- Start writing letters again and actually fucking post them. Be ready people, I’m getting some ‘pen friends’!
- Chop down a fresh pine tree for Christmas this year. Who has a little beat box car I can lend at the end of the year? My sisters and I have some chopping to do!
- Write my memoirs.
So there you have it. A list of shit I’m going to do THIS year. I need some buddies to help me, so start putting your hands up.
Make sure you turn the teapot twice clockwise and once anticlockwise!