For fifty-five years, Bert and Edna had shared everything—except their deepest secrets. That changed one evening on the porch swing.
Edna set her tea down. “Bert, before we kick the bucket, let’s do something wild.”
Bert squinted. “Like what? Remember where we parked at the grocery store?”
Edna rolled her eyes. “I’m talking bucket lists. What’s your dream?”
Bert thought for a moment. “Skydiving.”
Edna burst out laughing. “You need a nap after putting on socks!”
But Bert was serious. “If I die, just tell everyone I went out with style.”
Then Edna leaned in. “My bucket list item? Confessing.”
And oh, the confessions that followed.
The recliner sabotage. The remote-control prank. Even the real reason Bert’s bowling trophy went out the car window in 1965.
Bert, in turn, admitted his decade of “fishing trips” were actually bowling championships.
By the time they finished laughing, the sun had set, and the squirrels had stolen the Cheeto.
The next month, Bert (against all odds) survived his skydiving adventure, and Edna—after fifty-five years—finally let him watch something other than Hallmark movies.
Some secrets are worth waiting half a century to share.
