Gemotions

The basement was a treasure trove of forgotten memories. Jake, leaning against a damp wall, was trying to stifle a grin. His mother, the keeper of all things significant and insignificant, had outdone herself.

He picked up a crayon drawing of a lopsided house with a stick-figure family waving from the door. He could practically hear his own childish voice, reciting the stories behind the artwork.

A chuckle escaped him as he recalled the countless hours his mother spent making sure every school project was saved. It had been her way of telling him, “I see you. You matter.” A profound tenderness swelled within him.