"The Wish List"

Rae had never been good at saying goodbye. As a child, she would cling to her friends at the end of playdates, her tiny hands balled into tight fists, refusing to let them leave. As she grew older, she got better at masking it—smiling and waving, even as something in her chest felt like it was splintering apart. But some goodbyes were too big to hide behind a smile, like the one she had to face now.

The old house was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like the air was thick with all the things left unsaid. Rae stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by boxes, each one packed with a part of her father’s life. It had been a month since he passed away, and now it was time to sort through the things he had left behind.

Her father was a man of few words, but he always found ways to show he cared. He would bring her hot chocolate on rainy afternoons, or play her favorite records even though they weren’t his style. It was these small gestures that Rae missed the most—the little ways he let her know she wasn’t alone. And now, she felt like she was sifting through the remnants of those moments, trying to find a way to hold onto them.

As she was rummaging through a drawer, she found a small, tattered notebook wedged in the back, hidden beneath a pile of old bills. It was the kind of notebook you could pick up at any corner store, with a plain brown cover and pages yellowed with age. Curious, she opened it to the first page and found her father’s neat, slanted handwriting.

The Wish List.

Rae’s heart skipped a beat. She had heard him mention it once, in passing, when she was younger. It was a list of things he wanted to do, dreams he had for himself and for their family. She had always thought of it as a kind of joke, a playful fantasy, but as she flipped through the pages, she realized just how wrong she was. The list was real, and it was filled with things he had never done, places he had never been, and hopes he had never shared.

1. Watch the sunrise from the top of Rose Hill. 2. Learn to play the guitar. 3. Take Rae to see the Northern Lights. 4. Grow a sunflower garden. 5. Dance in the rain without caring who’s watching.

Each item was simple, almost childlike in its innocence, and yet there was something heartbreaking about seeing them written out, knowing he would never get the chance to check them off. Rae felt a lump form in her throat as she read through the list, the words blurring as tears welled up in her eyes.

She sat there for a long time, the notebook cradled in her lap, until a thought began to take shape in the back of her mind. It was a silly, impulsive idea, the kind her father would have called "recklessly optimistic," but she couldn’t shake it. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to make sure those wishes didn’t fade away, forgotten in an old drawer.

Maybe she could finish the list for him.

The next morning, Rae stood at the foot of Rose Hill, her breath misting in the chilly dawn air. She had always thought of it as just a hill, the kind of place you pass by without giving it a second thought. But now, standing there with the notebook in her hand, it felt different, as if the hill itself was waiting for something.

She started climbing, her legs protesting at the steep incline, but she kept going, determined. By the time she reached the top, the sky was beginning to lighten, a soft, pale pink that melted into gold. She stood there, watching as the sun slowly crested over the horizon, bathing the world in light. It was beautiful, more beautiful than she had ever imagined, and for a moment, she felt like she could almost see her father there beside her, his eyes twinkling with that quiet, knowing smile of his.

She pulled out the notebook and crossed out the first item. Watch the sunrise from the top of Rose Hill. One wish down, a dozen more to go.

Over the next few weeks, Rae found herself doing things she never thought she would. She borrowed a guitar from a friend and signed up for lessons, even though her fingers fumbled awkwardly over the strings. She bought packets of sunflower seeds and spent an afternoon planting them in the backyard, her hands dirty with soil but her heart light. She danced in the rain one evening, her clothes soaked through, laughing like she hadn’t laughed in years.

Each time she crossed something off the list, it felt like she was reconnecting with a part of her father she hadn’t known existed. It was as if, in fulfilling these small, whimsical wishes, she was piecing together a story he had never told her—a story of who he was, not just as her father, but as a person with dreams and desires of his own.

But there was one wish that seemed impossible, one she couldn’t bear to even think about: Take Rae to see the Northern Lights. It had been his dream to see them together, ever since she was little and he told her stories about the dancing colors in the sky, like magic. But now, it was a dream that would always remain just that—a dream.

Or so she thought.

It was nearing the end of the year when Rae received a letter in the mail, a plain white envelope with no return address. Inside was a ticket, a round-trip flight to a small town in Norway, with a note attached: “Sometimes, dreams have a way of finding us, even when we stop looking for them.”

She stared at the ticket, her hands shaking. She had no idea who had sent it, or how they knew about the wish list, but a part of her didn’t care. It was a chance, a gift she hadn’t dared to hope for, and she knew she had to take it.

A few weeks later, Rae found herself standing in the freezing cold, her breath clouding in the air as she looked up at the sky. It was dark, a deep, velvety black, and for a moment, she wondered if she had come all this way for nothing. But then, slowly, the sky began to change.

Green and blue ribbons of light unfurled across the horizon, swirling and dancing as if they were alive. Rae gasped, her eyes wide, and for a moment, she felt like a child again, standing at the edge of a world that was bigger and more beautiful than she had ever imagined. She could almost hear her father’s voice, telling her about the magic of the lights, the way they moved like a silent symphony.

She pulled out the notebook, her hands numb from the cold, and crossed out the last wish. Take Rae to see the Northern Lights.

When Rae returned home, she found another letter waiting for her. This one was from her aunt, her father’s younger sister, and it explained everything. “Your father made a wish of his own before he left us,” the letter said. “He knew he might not get to finish his list, but he hoped you would find it, and that it might bring you some comfort. He didn’t want you to be sad, Rae. He wanted you to see the world the way he did—with wonder and hope, even when it seems impossible.”

Rae sat on the floor of her apartment, the letter in one hand and the notebook in the other, and she cried. But they weren’t the kind of tears she had shed at his funeral, tears of loss and sorrow. These were different, softer, like the gentle release of something that had been held too tightly for too long.

She knew then that her father’s wish list wasn’t just about the things he wanted to do; it was about the life he wanted her to live. A life full of curiosity, adventure, and quiet moments of beauty. And she knew, deep down, that she wasn’t saying goodbye to him—not really. She was carrying his dreams with her, letting them guide her, even as she found new ones of her own.

Rae picked up a pen and turned to the back of the notebook. She hesitated for a moment, then wrote: 1. Make a new wish list.

And under it, she added the first item: Live a life full of wonder, just like Dad.