Gemotions

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Sarah hummed a jaunty tune, the one they always played when they were prepping for a picnic. She found the list crumpled at the bottom of a drawer in the hall cupboard, buried under old photographs and dried flower petals. It was scribbled in Mark’s familiar, loopy handwriting: “See the Northern Lights. Learn to play the ukulele. Bake a perfect sourdough.” A wide, genuine smile stretched across her face.

Her fingers traced the words, a light flush warming her cheeks. She knew he had always wanted to see the Aurora Borealis. This felt like a secret map to his heart. The sourdough was doable, she figured. He loved her cooking, and she'd bet he'd appreciate a home-baked loaf.

She dashed into the living room, grabbing her phone, already composing a text to their friend, Emily, about a possible trip to Iceland. This was going to be an adventure, a chance to make his wishes come true. Her heart felt light, as if it were bouncing.