Bucket list for a spring chiken

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Mother will be ninety in May.  A few weeks ago, my youngest sister asked if she had a bucket list.

“Not really,” she answered.  “I’ve seen London, Dublin, New York City, and San Francisco.  I’ve been to Canada, Mexico, and lots of the United States.  I’ve worked as a teacher and in a cemetery.  I’ve seen my name and art on the cover of a book.  I’ve been married and had five children, then had lots of years on my own since your daddy died.  I’ve been lucky and gotten to do so many things I only dreamed of growing up in The Depression in Cuthand, Texas.  I guess the only thing I’ve been thinking about is taking a trip on Amtrak.”

That didn’t sound like much of a hill to climb.  I called a very dear family member we’d both been wanting to visit for a while and wangled an invitation. We invited my sister-in-law, Shirley, which ensured a great time.  After checking the dates with everybody, I got the tickets.  About a week before we were to leave, Mother called.

“Have you already bought those tickets?  It’s really not a good time for me to go before Christmas.  I’d rather not spend the money right now and I haven’t done any shopping.  Can you get your money back?   Could we schedule it sometime later?”

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Bucket List for a spring chicken