The people who know me well, know that there is only one
item on my bucket list.
When I am (God
willing) a crinkly old lady in the clutches of death, on my last feeble breath,
with only myself and the great unknown to reckon with, I will have but one
regret.
I will not feel remorse at not having taken selfies on The Great Wall of China, I will not rage at my failure
to scale Mt. Kilimanjaro, and I refuse to let the fact that my great grandchildren will not know my first name, get me down (although this is an actual statistic which
is pretty depressing).
Nope, for me
there is only breakdancing. Yep, you
read that right.
The dream is this...
First: I dance-slide out into a frustrated crowd of
commuters in rush hour traffic, sitting in their vehicles with nothing to look
forward to but laundry, dirty dishes, cranky spouses, and 5 hours of restless “sleep”.
Then: I stop in the now-cleared space between traffic lights and proceed to throw down fly
moves, putting on a show that is both captivating, and supremely cool.
As you can imagine, the
people in their cars smile at each other in awe as they revel in the amazingness of
this incredible moment. They are happy to be part of this experience, a welcomed interlude from the doldrums, and eager to tell all of their friends.
And then: I nonchalantly dust myself off and continue on my way as if that was
the most natural thing in the world, leaving them all to wonder WTF just happened.
Then, and only then, will I have reached my potential in
this life.
Now, if you recall, I did say this will be my one and only
regret in life, and this is why… I come from a long line of terribly uncoordinated,
devastatingly bad, anti-dancers. Yep,
never gonna happen.
But I keep right on wishing (and carrying my imaginary cardboard)
