Gemotions

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a tingling sensation as he surveyed the list. It was Mom's, the faded paper a testament to her vibrant life now extinguished. The attic air, thick with the scent of aged wood and forgotten memories, felt charged. *Ride a hot air balloon.* The words jumped out at him, audacious and impossible, or at least he thought so. He felt the blood begin to pump harder in his ears.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the confined space. *Visit the Grand Canyon.* Another one. The enormity of the task, of the life she’d planned, slammed into him. A quick breath escaped his lips. He needed to get out of the house.