The List is an Anaconda

the endless list
of things to be done--


that no matter how many
I cross off, keeps growing
so that my love says
his tombstone will read
he had more stuff to do.

The list is an anaconda.
The list is a self
perpetuating monster
that gives birth constantly
like a queen ant


sending us workers
scurrying.


{excerpted from The romantic getaway by Marge Piercy}

I am not ordinarily much of a list person. My life does not require it. I will remember to cook dinner and fold laundry and read to children without writing it down and crossing it off.

December is different. This year's Christmas demands listmaking. I haven't "done" Christmas for the last few years. Illness, moves, small children: all more urgent than baking and widespread gift-giving. Last year I remember talking with a friend about choosing gifts for our kids' teachers and I mentioned that I would forgo the obligation because of chemo. "Lucky!" she said. It took both of us a moment to realize it wasn't, actually, lucky.

Because the list is an anaconda.

I have been very excited about Christmas this year, largely because I have the time and energy to do as much as I want. I keep thinking I am near the end of the things I want to do and tomorrow I can skip list making and then Whoomp! there it is.

Here is the beginning of my 2012 New Year's Resolutions:
1. Stop making lists.