Bucket Lists

What gets checked off, and what quietly carries forward

I’m a list person.

If I write something down, I tend to get it done—eventually.

Every morning, when I’m working, I start a new list. I begin by transferring whatever didn’t get done the day before. Sometimes I even add things I’ve already completed, just for the satisfaction of crossing them off. There’s something about the act itself—writing it down, drawing the line through it—that feels like accountability.

And there’s truth to it. Studies say if you write something down, you’re more likely to remember it—consciously or not.

Years ago, I even had an accountability partner. Every Friday, we’d meet and review what we said we were going to accomplish that week, then map out the next one. We kept everything in a shared document—tabs by month, each sheet broken down into weeks. It made progress visible. It also made avoidance visible.

Because when something kept getting carried forward, it meant one of two things:
it was a bigger goal we hadn’t broken down yet…
or it was something we were avoiding.

When my boys were about seven or eight, we made a different kind of list—a list of places we wanted to go. That year, “Santa” was planning a trip to Disneyland, and I wanted to build the excitement without giving away the surprise.

So we sat down and wrote it all out:

Disneyland
Four Corners (Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Utah)
London
Hawaii
Vegas
…and a few others I can’t even remember now.

We taped the list up in my office. And after Disneyland, we pretty much forgot about it.

What’s funny is that years later, looking back, we made it to almost every place on that list.

Except one.

Four Corners.
The closest one.

There’s probably a life lesson in there somewhere.

A few years ago, my oldest son came to visit me in Hawaii. One day, after a hike he’d already done with friends, I asked if we could go back out another day—this time to summit Mauna Kea.

It’s about 13,800 feet above sea level. Some say it’s taller than Mount Everest if you measure from the ocean floor. You can drive partway up, but the full hike is about 12 miles round trip with a 4,600-foot elevation gain. The upside? You don’t have to hike down—people hitch rides back all the time.

This is a kid raised in Colorado. I’ve summited two 14,000-foot peaks. He grew up with an adrenaline-loving mom.

This wasn’t a wild ask.

It’s also one of the few things on the island I’ve always wanted to do—and still haven’t.

His answer?

A very firm, very immediate: “No.”

I tried again.
“Come on. Don’t you want to summit Mauna Kea?”

“No.”

“It’s on my bucket list.”

That’s when he said it:

“No. My whole childhood has been spent checking things off your bucket list.”

It took me a second.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

Of course, I tried one last time.
“Isn’t hiking Mauna Kea with your mom on your bucket list?”

The look I got said everything.

“I’M SORRY YOU HAD SUCH A ROUGH CHILDHOOD,” I yelled—as we stood there watching a sunset in Hawaii.

Perspective is everything.

And maybe that’s the part no one tells you—the dreams I chase for myself aren’t always theirs— but somehow, they become part of their story anyway.

I still haven’t summited Mauna Kea.

But I’ve already been places that mattered more.

Apparently, I’ve been dragging my kids around the world this whole time.

These days, my lists look a little different.

Less about what I need to prove—more about where I’m willing to be.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m finally learning that not everything worth having needs to be checked off.

#newleasaonlife #thelongwayhome