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The List


I am not much of a list-writer, mostly because when I do write lists, I write on pieces of paper that are almost invariably lost as soon as the ink hits the paper, only to reappear years later in some coat pocket or the bottom of my purse, crumpled and thin, the words worn off from rubbing against camera, wallet, other bits of paper, pens, loose change, scotch tape, lock deicer: "..pinach," DOG FOO," -email Ka..." Bits of long ago that have lost all meaning, their lingering sense of urgency now a bit of an embarrassment.

Still, a list is a reassuring thing. It suggests order, a plan, a person with a plan, someone who's in charge, and on the sixth day.....

I have not studied the issue sufficiently, but I suspect that most of us write more lists when we feel least in control of our world. Just the creation of the list, putting those sequential numbers one below the other, or letting those bullets give weight to the words that follow feels therapeutic.

I am also not great with making resolutions. They seem just one more opportunity for failure. So when I do make them, they are secret, I hardly dare admit them to myself, always keeping open the option of deniability. I never said that!

But the temptation remains. I could make lists that are safe, inventory lists, for example. At other times of the year they might do, but not this late in December. Resolutions add a certain gravitas to the year-end, they say we've been here, and then we'll be there. They make us have future.

So here is my list. Of things I wish I could do:
  • Watch myself sleep
  • Read it in the original
  • Dance up a storm
  • Strike water from stone
  • Die alive
  • Do Teshuvah. Return
  • Love the way my dog loves

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