Summer is not summer without a bucket list, or at least, that is how it felt when I was a kid.

Recently, summer started feeling a bit bland.

I was told that is what happens as you grow up. You settle into routines. You work, spend time with people you love, and return to the same habits year after year. Summer no longer arrives with three months of freedom stretching endlessly ahead of you. And honestly, that is not a bad thing. There is comfort in routines and familiarity. It is wonderful to build a life you enjoy returning to each day.

But lately, I felt like something was missing.

When I was a kid, summer felt mysterious. It felt like anything could happen.

Every June, I would make a bucket list on loose sheets of notebook paper and decorate them with colored pencils, stickers, candy wrappers, and dried flowers. The lists were wildly ambitious. One year, I was convinced I would form a coven and learn magic. Another year, I wanted to build a treehouse despite not having any carpenter skills or a tree suitable for one. Some ideas came from books, some from movies, some from friends, and some from whatever strange obsession had captured my attention that week.

Most of those ambitious dreams never came to pass, but that was not really a point.

The excitement came from imagining them.

The list would change constantly. New items appeared. Others were crossed out, rewritten, or forgotten entirely. Looking back on it, I was not making a plan. I was creating possibilities.

The list gave shape to all the adventures that might happen between the last bell of the school year and the first fallen leaf in September.

I did it for years until I became too busy to remember.

As an adult, I wanted to bring back that feeling. I wanted to believe that there were still adventures waiting for me somewhere just beyond my usual routine.

So this year, I started a summer bucket list. Not because I need more goals. Not because I need another productivity system. And certainly not because I expect to complete every item. I made one because I wanted to make room for curiosity again.

Looking at my list, I notice that most of the items are surprisingly small. Some involve learning new things, like buying fabric and sewing something myself. Some are little adventures, like kayaking in Brooklyn or taking a train to the beach. Others are simply excuses to enjoy the season more fully: making ratatouille with summer produce, cooking apricot jam, painting outdoors, or going hiking with my dad.

None of these activities will change my life, but they might lead me somewhere unexpected.

Maybe I will discover that I love sewing. Maybe the apricot jam will turn out terribly. Maybe I will meet someone interesting on a train ride or stumble across a place I had never planned to visit. Maybe the best memory won't come from completing an item on the list at all, but from whatever happens along the way.

And that is the part I love most.

I have always suspected that part of the fun happens before the thing itself. Psychologists often talk about anticipation as a source of happiness, and I think they might be right. Looking forward to an experience can be enjoyable long before it happens. Even before I kayak in Brooklyn or make apricot jam, those possibilities already make an ordinary Tuesday feel a little more exciting.

The list is doing its job before I have checked off a single item.

A bucket list is not a contract. It is an invitation. It is permission to wander slightly off your usual path and see what you discover there. Maybe, this time around, I will check off every item. But more likely, I will complete some, forget others, and add entirely new ones before September arrives.

That is how it should be.

My goal is not to have a perfectly designed summer. The goal is to remember that there are still new things to try, new places to visit, and new memories waiting to be made. That even within the routines of adulthood, there is still room for surprise.

I am curious to see how this list grows and changes by the end of summer. And if you are feeling like summer has become a little too predictable, maybe try making your own bucket list. You do not need anything ambitious. Just a few small things that make you pause and think, "That sounds fun" or "I have always wanted to try that." Sometimes that is enough to make summer feel magical again.

Have a wonderful summer, everyone.

— Zhenia

P.S. Now, the first thing on my list is to thrift or rescue a plant for my place. I have long wanted to add some greenery, and I do not mean green onions or Lego flowers.