Sitting in front of the large window in my home in Canada, I watch the landscape transform with patience that only the years have allowed me to understand. Turning seventy is not simply reaching a milestone; it is standing on a vantage point from which the horizon is clearer. Often, when people talk about a ‘bucket list,’ they imagine skydiving or frenetic trips to exotic places. However, at my age, my list is not written with adrenaline, but with the serenity of someone who has learned to tame their own ghosts.

I look back and recognise that my greatest achievement was not crossing geographical borders as a migrant, but crossing the border of fear. For decades, I understood that the highest obstacle was not bureaucracy, nor language, nor the freezing climate of the north, but that inner voice whispering ‘you can't do it’. I learned that to achieve a dream, you have to turn it into a concrete goal. My strategy was visualisation, taking my desire for granted so that my brain, like a bloodhound, would seek out the opportunities hidden in everyday life. There was no magic, just perseverance. Every step, no matter how small, became a habit, and every habit became the foundation of my current stability.

Today, I enjoy good health, which I treasure, and a financial position that allows me to look to the future without anxiety. My family is well, and that is the safe haven where my joys anchor. As I review my ‘accomplishments,’ I feel a strange and sweet fulfilment: I have fulfilled my dreams. The big ones and the small ones. I have stumbled over a thousand stones, but each fall was a lesson in my personal architecture.

However, being ‘complete’ does not mean being static. I have entered what I call my ‘process of renewal.’ I no longer pursue goals with the urgency of a young man who wants to take on the world; now I allow the world to nourish me. I let my heart awaken new desires as the days go by, without pressure.

What more could I ask for? Life has been generous to me. But if I search the tenderest corner of my hope, I find a desire that does not yet have a name but does have an imagined face: the grace of meeting a grandson or granddaughter. I visualise myself holding their hand, showing them that snow is not only cold, but also a blank canvas. My last great dream is to enjoy those first years of a new life, to see the world through their amazed eyes and to give them, in the form of cuddles and stories, the wisdom that took me so many years to gather.

That is my only pending wish. The rest is gratitude. The rest is simply living with the peace of knowing that the journey has been worthwhile.

Hi! Everybody, if you've made it this far, THANK YOU! You are welcome to participate; the link with all the information is below. But I also hope to read your comments in the reply box. Thank you for joining us in these waters of HIVE.