Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara coughed, waving a hand in front of her face as she rummaged through a trunk overflowing with forgotten treasures. Her fingers brushed against stiff paper, and she pulled it out, her heart giving a little thump. It was a dog-eared notebook, and on the front, in her husband, Daniel’s, familiar scrawl, were the words: "Bucket List." A grin threatened to split her face.

Her breath hitched as she flipped it open. The first entry read: "Learn to play the ukulele." She imagined him, clumsy but determined, strumming away. A giggle escaped her. Next: "See the Northern Lights." A thrill zipped up her spine. They had talked about that for years, but life always seemed to get in the way.

He was going to be so surprised! She practically vibrated with the idea of making it happen, of planning the trip, of finally seeing his dream come to life. Her fingers flew down the list: "Visit the Louvre," "Write a novel," "Learn to bake bread." She couldn't wait.