beginning with a "b"

I.: buckets
To be happy (assuming that's your objective), one must always have something to look forward to, however elastically defined; I've known this keen truth since I was at least fourteen, when the object so eagerly awaited was most likely someone's birthday party (held in the small suburban town of Small Change, under watchful parental gaze).  One must always have a Zero Hour after which everything will be different and improved; it is a catastrophically attractive concept for nation-states, and equally deceptive, though no less a necessity, for individuals.  But birthday parties have long since lost their luster for me; and jobs and doctorates no longer deliver, either; and so, about two months ago, I thought, I'd better plan a vacation, or else.  Chip worriedly began to forward me articles about places I could visit.  Maybe Cuba (I thought, Best to go there soon), or Colombia (assured, "Everyone is going there these days," I thought, Best to skip it) or Cape Cod in the off season, or even Zanzibar (the Indian Ocean has always appealed, pirates be damned)...

Then, a few weeks ago, on the subway, I was reading this account of one man's quest to visit every country in the world, and which countries were hardest to enter.  A frenzied visit to every country in the world is not the sort of bucket list with which I particularly identify (though I have several friends, new and old, who might rival the author in his quest).   But the idea of visiting particular countries has long been one of my favorite games.  


II.: buckets/bubbles
In addition to an obligatory winter stop in Sri Lanka, during the last week in October, I might go anyplace at all that I'm able to afford; my only real responsibility is to my own life and limb.  And I began to think about my own bucket list, which is largely based on romantic landscapes and gardens I'd like to see.  And the itineraries, the images, began to bubble to the surface:

Spain
really really rough wild Scotland
Sardinia
Suzhou
Sumatra


III.: boy
I went down a few weeks ago to go out for a sail.  It's a big sailboat - the kind that you steel with a wheel, not a rudder.  As we motored out of the marina, a tiny sunfish sailed by, all miniaturized - little boy, little sail.  I envied him his calm self-assurance and his seat alone on a wooden bench. Self-possession, that ease of assurance - now, that's something to which we might all aspire, at any age.