My 11-year-old son just created a bucket list. One of the items on that list? Pet a cow.

I thought it was funny and then I thought about it some more. I realized I don’t have a bucket list. In fact, I typed up my few but relatively elaborate grown-up goals only recently. He’s got me beat.

He’s got me beat because he doesn’t overthink everything like I do. He doesn’t yet get lost in the dark recesses of life trying to figure out what it all means and how to optimize it. While I am busy planning, he is having a jousting tournament with his friends using bikes and pool noodles.

I can see it more clearly now. He spends more time in the moments. I spend too much time contemplating the moments. The object of our attention is the same, though. We are both answering the only question that matters: How do we want to spend our limited time?

In light of Covid, what is truly important and what is only important when we forget our own fragility? I have a feeling life can be more simple and fun than I make it out to be. (Simple, yes, but not easy.)

Maybe it’s good enough to jot a few ideas down on notebook paper and then get busy living. Once you work through the list, make a new one and keep going. Or maybe you get better ideas later that replace some old goals that seem stale.

There are no rules when it comes to your goals. There are infinite possibilities. And what I am learning is that if I spend too much time planning and optimizing then none of the fun stuff happens.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to try to set the Guinness record for the world’s longest corn hole shot.

Life is short. Go pet a cow.