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April 10,2008 :: The phones go marching one-by-one, hurrah...

My head has been crammed full of work this week, and therefore not so full of posting ideas. Fortunately, I came upon a fantastic list on Mighty Girl that has restored my faith in this week. (A side note: That's a blog I check in with quite often, because she's smart and creative and has a sense of grace about what she chooses to say and how she chooses to say it that floors me. Something a lot of blogs I read simply don't do, to the point that I'm sure some of them enjoy the hate mail and the controversy more than the opportunity to broadcast their lives freely to the world.) That's another topic entirely though.

Anyway, the very awesome proprietress of that blog has been running through what she's calling 'mighty lists' - 100 things to do in her life, and 100 "worth it" instances--things she hopes to see during the oft-fabled "life flashes before your eyes" moment. I mean to make both lists, but I think first, I need to pass the idea along (it's incredibly humbling and inspiring to rummage through your memory this way. At least, I think so), and I also think I need to start with the second list first. I think I need to know what I've already loved so much before moving on to what I'd love to do next.

Here's a sampling of others' "worth it's".

Here's a couple of mine.

Gathering eggs with my ancient, German great-grandmother; shoving tiny hands under the brooding hens and feeling their warmth--like living hot water bottles.

Watching on a cheap color television in an attic apartment as my words, my stories, are spoken by a news anchor for the very first time.

Playing guns in the woods with four rough-and-tumble boy cousins.

Backing a tractor trailer up my parents' 1/4 mile-long driveway, my father laughing as I clip every tree along the way.

Walking through the dingy bar toward the blonde musician in the brown fedora, first-date butterflies choking me speechless.

Being shown a hidden room--below the attic floor, under a trunk--in a for-sale Victorian home, and gasping as I peer down into the spot where fugitives once hid from their masters' bounty-hunters.

Unlocking the door of my 120-year old house, stepping inside, and saying out loud, "this is mine."

What's your 'worth it's?'