On a peaceful Sunday evening, Bert and Edna—married for fifty-five years—sway quietly on their porch swing. They sip slightly cool tea while nearby squirrels argue fiercely over a stray Cheeto. The sun sinks toward the horizon, bathing the yard in warm golden light. Suddenly, Edna breaks the calm.

“Bert, we should talk about our bucket lists.”

He peers at her over his glasses.

“Bucket lists? Edna, I’m eighty-seven. My main goal these days is remembering where I took off my pants.”

She laughs softly.

“No, not that. I mean things we’ve always wanted to do but never got around to—before we’re done here.”

Bert rubs his chin.

“Well… I’ve always wanted to try skydiving.”

Edna’s eyes go wide.

“You? You nearly passed out tying your shoes last week!”

He grins.

“If I don’t make it, aim me toward the neighbor’s yard. I’ve always wanted to haunt that guy.”

They both laugh. Edna nods.

“Alright. You skydive. I’ll do mine.”

Bert squints at her.

“And what exactly is yours?”

That familiar mischievous glint flashes in her eyes.

“Remember how your recliner leaned to the left for twenty years?”

He nods, still convinced the dog was responsible.

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

Bert gasps.

“You’re diabolical!”

She calmly sips her tea.

“And that remote that only played Hallmark movies? I slipped a penny into the battery compartment.”

He groans. “Why would you do that?”

She smiles sweetly.

“Because revenge is best served with mistletoe, snowball fights, and dramatic music.”

Bert leans back, smirking.

“Well then, my turn. You know my Saturday ‘fishing trips’?”

Edna raises an eyebrow.

“You don’t fish.”

“Correct. I was bowling. Won four trophies—been hiding them behind the water heater in the basement.”

They erupt into laughter, recalling the day she once tossed his “trophies” out the car window during an argument in 1965.

A few weeks later, Edna replaces the sabotaged recliner, and Bert goes skydiving—landing proudly in the neighbor’s yard. From then on, Saturdays become bowling days together, not just for the sport, but for the shared mischief and joy.

Years pass. Then one day, tragedy strikes—a car accident takes them both. At the Pearly Gates, St. Peter greets them warmly and shows them their heavenly home: a gourmet kitchen, a Jacuzzi, championship golf courses, and an endless five-star buffet.

“Everything’s included,” he says. “Eat, drink, enjoy—no restrictions.”

Bert frowns.

“So… no low-fat or low-cholesterol options?”

St. Peter laughs.

“No need. You won’t gain weight or get sick here.”

Bert turns to Edna, shaking his head.

“This is all your fault! If you hadn’t fed me kale muffins and bran cereal for fifty years, we’d still be alive!”

Edna just laughs and takes his hand.

“Oh, Bert. Even in heaven, you’re still the grumpiest man I’ve ever loved.”

Hand in hand, they wander off—ready to rock that porch swing together for eternity.

 Because love isn’t just about grand moments.
It’s about hidden spatulas, secret bowling trophies, and laughing forever.