On a quiet Sunday evening, Bert and Edna, who had been married for fifty-five years, sat side by side on their old porch swing, gently rocking back and forth while sipping lukewarm tea. The air was calm, the horizon was glowing with the last hues of sunset, and a pair of squirrels wrestled over a lone Cheeto in the yard.
It was one of those peaceful, ordinary moments until Edna broke the silence. “Bert, let’s talk bucket lists,” she said suddenly. Bert glanced up from his tea, his eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. “Bucket lists? Edna, I’m eighty-seven years old. The last thing I want to do is wake up tomorrow trying to remember where I left my pants.” She chuckled at his dry humor. “No, you old fool. I mean a real bucket list—things we’ve never dared to do, dreams we should try before our time is up.” Bert stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve always wanted to skydive.” Edna’s eyes went wide. “You?
You nearly faint tying your shoes!” He grinned mischievously. “Just picture me landing right in the neighbor’s garden. I’ve always wanted to haunt him.” She laughed and gave a playful nod. “Alright then, you can skydive. I’ll do mine.” Bert narrowed his eyes. “And what’s yours?” A mischievous sparkle danced in hers. “Bert… remember your favorite recliner that leaned to the left for twenty years?” He nodded, still believing the dog had somehow been responsible. “Well,” Edna confessed with a sly smile, “after you spilled grape soda on my new curtains back in ’89, I jammed a spatula under one leg.”
Bert’s mouth dropped open. “You monster!” She grinned even wider. “And that remote control that only wanted the Hallmark channel? I stuck a penny in the battery compartment.” Bert gasped again. “Why would you do that?” Edna took a slow sip of tea. “Because nothing says sweet revenge like five straight years of slow-motion snowball fights and sappy mistletoe movies.” Bert leaned back with a smirk. “Alright, confession time. You know my Saturday fishing trips for the past decade?” Edna’s brow rose. “You don’t fish.” “Exactly,” he said with a wink. “I was bowling. I even won four trophies—hid them in the basement behind the water heater.”
@cam.wehunt #greenscreenvideo #duet with @notorious_vic It makes me happy that they are so happy 🥹❤️ #oldlove #thecutest #corememory #oldcouple #socute ♬ original sound – CAM
Edna nearly spit out her tea laughing, remembering how she once tossed what she thought were his “junk” trophies out the car window during a fight in 1965. They both dissolved into laughter until their sides hurt. A few weeks later, Edna replaced the sabotaged recliner, and Bert finally got his wish to go skydiving—landing safely, and exactly as he’d joked, in the neighbor’s yard, much to their shared delight. From that day on, every Saturday became their bowling day, not just for the competition, but as a reminder that a little mischief mixed with love was the secret ingredient to their long marriage.
Years passed, and time, as it always does, caught up with them. In their eighties, they tragically died together in a car accident. When they arrived at the Pearly Gates, St. Peter greeted them warmly and offered a personal tour of their new heavenly home. It had a gourmet kitchen, a Jacuzzi, a championship golf course, and an endless five-star buffet—all completely free. Bert’s eyes widened in disbelief. “So how much does all this cost?” St. Peter laughed heartily. “This is heaven—everything is on the house. Eat, drink, play as much as you like.” Bert’s expression shifted to suspicion. “So… there are no low-fat, low-cholesterol options?” St. Peter shook his head.
“No need for that here. You can’t get sick or gain weight.” Bert froze, then slowly turned to Edna, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t made me eat kale-chicken muffins and bran cereal for fifty years, we’d have been here decades ago!” Edna laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Bert, even in heaven you are still the grumpiest man I’ve ever loved.” And so they wandered off hand in hand, ready to spend eternity together, gently rocking on that pearly white porch swing in the sky, still bickering, still laughing, and still proving that love, humor, and just the right amount of mischief never grow old.
