An elderly couple, Bert and Edna, are sitting on the porch swing!

On a still Sunday evening, Bert and Edna—married for fifty-five years—gently sway on their porch swing, sipping lukewarm tea as squirrels argue over a stray Cheeto in the yard. The sun casts a golden hue across the grass, and silence hangs peacefully between them—until Edna speaks up.

“Bert, let’s talk about bucket lists.”

He peers at her over the rim of his glasses.

“Bucket lists? Edna, I’m eighty-seven. My biggest goal these days is finding my pants before noon.”

She laughs softly.

“No, I mean real dreams—the kind we’ve never dared to try. Things we want to check off before it’s too late.”

Bert scratches his chin thoughtfully.

“Well… I’ve always wanted to skydive.”

Edna’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You? You nearly pass out bending down to tie your shoes!”

He shrugs, grinning.

“Just picture me crash-landing in the neighbor’s begonias. I’ve always wanted to spook him.”

They both chuckle. Edna nods slowly.

“Alright, fine. You go flying through the sky. I’ll do mine.”

Bert squints suspiciously.

“And what exactly is yours?”

A familiar mischievous glint lights up her eyes.

“Remember that old recliner that leaned to the left for two decades?”

He nods, still certain the dog was to blame.

“Well, after you spilled grape soda on my brand-new curtains back in ’89, I stuck a spatula under one leg.”

Bert gasps.

“You fiend!”

She takes a casual sip of tea.

“And that remote that only played Hallmark movies? I wedged a penny in the battery slot.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because nothing says revenge like years of snow-covered meet-cutes and festive misunderstandings.”

Bert leans back, chuckling.

“Okay, my turn. You know those fishing trips I took every Saturday?”

Edna narrows her eyes.

“You hate fishing.”

“Exactly. I was bowling. Won four trophies. They’re hidden behind the water heater in the basement.”

They both laugh so hard they nearly spill their tea, recalling the time Edna angrily tossed his “trophies” out the car window during an argument in ’65.

A few weeks later, Edna replaces the sabotaged recliner, and Bert takes the plunge—literally—parachuting into the neighbor’s flower beds. Every Saturday from then on, they bowl together—not just for the fun, but for the laughter, the mischief, and the memories.

Years pass. Then one day, fate steps in. A car accident claims them both. At the Pearly Gates, St. Peter greets them warmly and gives them a tour of their eternal home: gourmet kitchen, Jacuzzi, championship golf course, and an endless buffet.

“Everything’s included,” he says with a smile. “Eat whatever you like. No limits, no consequences.”

Bert’s face drops.

“Wait… no low-fat, no sugar-free options?”

St. Peter laughs.

“Nope. No illness, no weight gain. You’re free.”

Bert turns to Edna, faux-indignant.

“This is on you! If you hadn’t force-fed me kale muffins and bran flakes for fifty years, we’d still be alive!”

Edna rolls her eyes, grinning.

“Oh, Bert. Even in heaven, you’re the most lovable grouch I’ve ever known.”

And so they wander off, hand in hand, ready to spend eternity exactly how they started—side by side, rocking gently on a pearly-white porch swing.

💫 Because love isn’t just in the big moments. It’s found in secret trophies, lopsided furniture, and a lifetime of laughter shared.