Gemotions

I found the list jammed inside a dusty old camera bag. My father's handwriting, bold and confident, scrawled across the paper. “Climb Mount Everest.” “Photograph a tiger in the wild.” He was a man of adventure, my father. Me? I'm afraid of heights.

I sat on the porch, the setting sun painting the sky in vibrant hues. The list felt like a challenge, a testament to a life lived to the fullest. A lump formed in my throat, I swallowed hard, trying to keep it down.

I folded the paper carefully, tucking it back into the bag. It felt heavy in my hands, a burden I was not sure I could bear.