Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and heavy, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Sarah shoved another box aside, a grunt escaping her as the flimsy cardboard threatened to collapse. Finding the bucket list was a shock. Mom, a woman of meticulously planned routines and sensible shoes, had a list titled "Things to Do Before I Kick the Bucket!" It was a mess of scrawled handwriting, and right at the top, bolded, was “Ride a motorcycle.” Sarah rolled her eyes. She pictured her mother, clutching the handlebars of a Harley, helmet hair billowing in the wind. Utterly ridiculous.

She flipped the page, a sigh escaping her. Number three: "Learn to Tango." Number five: "See the Northern Lights." This was going to be a long day. She ran a hand through her hair, the sunlight catching the strands like a halo. It was going to be an impossibly long day.