I have a secret dream of becoming a yoga master. Never mind that I’m not currently doing yoga. Is that a requirement for the dream? I’d also like to learn Spanish, travel to Africa, and figure out how to scuba dive. And then there’s sailing—I’d love to learn how to sail and have a place by the ocean. Not twelve minutes away by car (if traffic’s light), but right on the beach, where I can hear the waves splashing against the shore.

I want to study poetry—something I know only a little about—and write another novel that gets published and does well. I’d love to ride a bike every day—helmet on, of course—and learn to ride horses and go riding often. I wouldn’t mind taking a motorcycle trip up Highway 1, feeling the wind on my face through Big Sur. I’d be game to study something completely new, like marine biology—anything that would send me down to the water and make me wade in.

I’d also like to return to Italy and drive a little sports car along the Amalfi Coast, and eat blood oranges again. I wouldn’t mind exploring the British Isles, or wandering through the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, or going back to Paris again—sitting in the sun at a sidewalk café, drinking espresso, and eating some ridiculously good pastry.

I read once that if you write down everything you want to do in life and then tuck that paper away for five years, you’ll be surprised at how many of those dreams quietly come true. I tried that about ten years ago, and I have to admit—some of the things did come to pass. But my list was more emotional than measurable. I wanted to feel happier in my marriage, which I do. I hoped to be a good mother; I believe I’m doing my best. I wanted to read more literature—and I have.

I don’t know if that means the list worked or if those were just things that were going to unfold anyway. Still, I suppose I’ve just made a new list, right here in this essay. I’ll check back in five years and see where things stand. It’d be lovely to find that more of these dreams came true than not—that without even realizing it, I’d leaned into the life I imagined.

Oh—and I’d like to start playing the piano again, and get better at it. I’d also like to sing more. I truly love to sing, and I haven’t been doing enough of that lately.

The truth is, I’m a fairly content person. If none of these dreams come to pass, I imagine I’ll still be happy. I’m lucky that way—I tend to lean toward happiness. So I’m not putting any pressure on myself. I’ll just keep this quiet list close to my heart and see what happens.