When he died, Uncle Silas left behind a three-hundred-item bucket list—hand-scrawled in twenty college blue books. He dated every entry and divided them into categories, one per book, with each successful quest checked. Some books were filled cover to cover, like those for ‘travel’ and ‘gourmet foods.’ Others contained one item, like the entry ‘try cinnamon-flavored coffee.’
He’d added cinnamon-flavored coffee a decade ago, but never checked it done. He’d listed ‘lunch with the Pope’ in a category called ‘break bread with celebrities.’ He’d placed a red check-mark next to that.
A joke? A fantasy?
Or a quest fulfilled?