My Personal Bucketlist

50 Things I want to do before I die

1. Go to Italy, and visit where my great grandparents were from.

2. Go backpacking across America.

3. Meet Lupe Fiasco, and hang out with him.

4. Write a memoir.

5. Give a speech in front of 1,000 people, and be applauded.

6. Ride in a hot air balloon.

7. Work at an orphanage in a developing country.

8. Create a charitable organization to help those less fortunate in the United States.

9. Visit Australia, and swim in the Great Barrier Reef.

10. Record one of the songs that I wrote when I wanted to be a rapper.

11. Be on either Criminal Minds or Law and Order SVU.

12. Settle down with the love of my life, and have a family.

13. Truly become spiritual; be able to give myself over without holding back.

14. Become the kind of person that people can look up to, a positive role model.

15. Read every book on my list of classic books everyone should read.

16. Become financially independent.

17. Finish a scrapbook.

18. Go to the Olympics to watch the Field Hockey games.

19. Find a collector’s edition copy of the Time Traveler’s Wife, and have it signed by Audrey Niffenegger.

20. Find a way to reduce the stress my Aunt Peggy goes through every day.

21. Watch every classic black and white movie.

22. Start a high school field hockey league in Arkansas.

23. Have Marcelline officially added as my second middle name.

24. Meet the US field hockey team, and play around with them.

25. See every Broadway show that I have wanted to see.

26. Become a Christian Buddhist.

27. Be in the hall of fame at Hendrix College.

28. Cook a meal with Paula Dean and Bobby Flay.

29. Visit India.

30. Be on a cooking show on food network such as Iron Chef, Throwdown or the next food network star.

31. Start a restaurant.

32. Sew an outfit for myself that I can use on more than one occasion.

33. Travel again to Costa Rica.

34. Visit each of my college friend’s hometowns.

35. Score a goal in a field hockey game.

36. Become an Art Therapist.

37. Visit Harry Potter world in Florida

38. Get a job as a bartender, at least for a few months J.

39. Go to a world series or super bowl game.

40. Meet Derek Jeter.

41. Create my own fragrance.

42. Visit all of the concentration/death camps from the Holocaust.

43. Meet my half sister, though I don’t even know her name.

44. Have an article published in a psychological journal.

45. Run a 6 minute mile.

46. Have strong friendships.

47. Know when to ask for help.

48. Love, and be loved in return.

49. Be happy and have no regrets.

50. Live life to the fullest.

I've become so numb I can't feel you there

I hear the shaking voice on the other end of the phone. My body goes numb. The phone is pushed harder against my ear. She asks who it is for the second and third time, and I start to break from the inside out. How can she not hear me? Not know who this is just by the sound of my voice? I want to cry, but holding back tears I tell her one more time, “Aunt Rose, it’s me, Ali.” When my words make it through and she recognizes who I am, we have a conversation filled with silence and confusion. I tell her I love her, and she tells me she loves me. We hang up, and every tear I have been holding back streams down my cheeks.

Aunt Rose has been in deteriorating health for the past 7 years. She was a strong single woman, with more than a few marriage offers throughout her life. She helped my grandmother raise five kids when my grandfather walked out, as well as take care of her sick mother, while working on top of all of it. Everyone knew Aunt Rose; she would get a free meal from one restaurant, a discount at another because of her liquor licensing job. She was always seen around town in her Toyota Camery with Miss ABC on the license plate. Aunt Rose was a woman to look up to, a woman who worked hard and never wanted to be dependent on anyone. Now she is more than dependent on the nurse that gives her around the clock care. The home she once ran is now in the hands of my mom and her two sisters. She is trapped in a chair or hospital bed all day, because her body is too weak to move around anymore due to the disease that has consumed her body. Parkinsons has taken everything from her except for her ability to think. She can no longer articulate, but you know she is in there, you can see it in her eyes. Every so often, there is a spark of the woman she once was. A crack in the empty shell the disease has turned her into. Her talking is limited, and when she does speak, it is garbled and hard to understand.

My mom called me yesterday, and as she was talking I could tell that something wasn’t right. She had just come from Aunt Rose’s house, and my whole body froze anticipating the horrible news. I thought the day had come, the day that she finally has let go of this life that is filled with only pain and suffering. Aunt Rose however is still not ready, though she is right on the edge. My mom painted the picture of this poor old woman who stares straight ahead with glossy eyes and mouth hanging open. I am broken, inside and out. I cannot control the tears, they come in streams and there is nothing I can do to stop them. I am brought back to reality by the sobs on the other end of the phone. My mom is crying, and all I can say to her is “can I come home for the funeral?” It is inevitable, Aunt Rose will soon be leaving us, I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t get back for the funeral. My mom can’t answer for a few minutes but finally says, “We can do whatever you want. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to come home.” I think about everything that Aunt Rose has given me. She has taken on the role of my grandmother, how on earth could I not go home for it. I want to see her once more, I cannot imagine never seeing her again alive. My mom’s crying has subsided, but I still can’t get a hold on my tears.

Why did I not spend more time with her?

Why am I so selfish?

I always had the idea in my head that Aunt Rose would be around forever. She was so tough, when I was younger, I could never have imagined her in the state she is now. I think subconsciously I didn’t want to go see her because I wanted to remember her as she was, not the deteriorating woman that she has become. I wish there was something I could do, but being so far away I can’t even comfort my mom. Instead, I find myself sitting on my bed, lost in memories of my childhood.

Climbing the tree in the side yard with my cousins.

Adventuring through the huge basement, filled with antiques, and other items that allowed my imagination to run wild.

Watching TV in grandma DeMarco’s old room, which has now become Aunt Roses room.

Going to the library and the park down the street.

Listening to the Italian House Party on the radio on Sunday mornings.

A beep brings me back. My mom had lost service, and I am alone. My mind is empty, I cannot comprehend anything. I am 20 years old but I feel like I am 7 again and it’s the night I watched my nana died. Nothing makes sense, I am cold and alone. Lauren is in my room with me, but I feel by myself. I hear the words she is saying but I can’t seem to shake this feeling of separation from the world. My mom calls me back, and she does finally make me feel better, but why am I kidding myself I am putting on a fake smile, laughing at jokes that for only a split second make me forget this loneliness. I am so used to my support system here, and without it I am crumbling. I know I have to be strong, but it is so hard.