Gemotions

Sarah sighed, pushing the heavy oak door open to her mother’s cluttered study. Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunbeams that sliced through the room. A bucket list. Ridiculous. She'd found it tucked inside her mother's favorite cookbook. "Bake a perfect sourdough loaf," it demanded. Sarah’s jaw clenched. Her mother hadn't been able to boil water without scorching it.

"Travel to Italy," the list declared. Sarah ran a hand through her hair, a nervous gesture. She picked up the list and examined it with a frown. Every item, a reminder of a life unlived, or at least, a life lived poorly. She tossed it onto the desk. She could already see the funeral arrangements, and the empty promises of her siblings, with whom she had never seen eye to eye.