Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window as Sarah sorted through the boxes. The musty scent of forgotten things filled her nostrils, a smell that now triggered a knot in her stomach. She found the leather-bound book tucked away beneath a stack of old photo albums. Her mother’s handwriting, neat and familiar, adorned the cover: “Things To Do Before…” The final word was obscured, but Sarah knew what it was. Her mother had never spoken of a bucket list.

She sank to the dusty floor, the book heavy in her hands. The first entry was: "Learn to play the piano." Sarah had begged her mother to take lessons with her, years ago. Her mother had always said she was too busy. Now, Sarah felt a tightening in her chest, a physical ache. She'd been too wrapped up in her own life, too self-absorbed. She ran her fingers over the faded ink, the words now echoing accusations.