On a peaceful Sunday evening, Bert and Edna, married for 55 years, sat side by side on their porch swing, gently rocking with cups of lukewarm tea in hand. The sun was setting, painting the sky with warm colors, while squirrels scurried playfully over a single Cheeto in the yard.
Breaking the quiet, Edna suddenly said, “Bert, let’s talk bucket lists.” Bert looked up, amused. “Bucket lists? At eighty-seven, I’m more worried about finding my pants than making lists.” Edna laughed and explained she meant real dreams and adventures they still wanted to try.
Bert pondered and confessed he always wanted to skydive. Edna teased, “You? You nearly faint tying your shoes!” He smiled, imagining landing in their neighbor’s yard just to spook him. She chuckled and agreed she’d do her own bucket list too.
Edna mischievously recounted how she had secretly disabled Bert’s favorite recliner after he spilled grape soda on her curtains years ago. She’d even tampered with the remote control to keep him watching only Hallmark movies. Bert gasped but laughed, remembering those slow-motion snowball fights sparked by those changes.
For his part, Bert admitted his supposed fishing trips were actually bowling outings where he won trophies, which he hid away—only for Edna to toss some out during a quarrel. The couple burst into laughter over these shared pranks.
Weeks later, Edna replaced the broken recliner, and Bert fulfilled his skydive dream, touching down as he joked, in the neighbor’s yard. From then on, Saturday became their bowling day—more than a hobby, it was a reminder that love with a sprinkle of mischief kept their marriage alive.
Years rolled by, and eventually, Bert and Edna tragically passed together in a car accident. At heaven’s gate, St. Peter welcomed them to a beautiful paradise filled with gourmet meals, golf courses, and endless buffets—all without cost.
Bert looked suspicious. “No low-fat, low-cholesterol options?” St. Peter smiled, “No need. Here, you can’t get sick or gain weight.” Bert half-jokingly blamed Edna for all the healthy food she made him eat for fifty years that kept them from arriving sooner.
Edna laughed and lovingly called Bert the grumpiest man she ever loved. Hand in hand, they strolled toward their eternal porch swing in the sky, still bickering, laughing, and reminding us that love, humor, and just enough playful trouble never fade with age.
