Gemotions

He had always been so… predictable. My Uncle George, a man whose life revolved around golf and gin. He sat across the kitchen table, his usually jovial face oddly serious. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a scene I suddenly found terribly intrusive.

“I’m becoming a Buddhist,” he announced, as casually as one might mention the weather. My jaw actually dropped. I couldn't seem to close it. The mug of tea I'd been holding felt heavy in my hand, as if it had suddenly transformed into lead. "I've been studying the teachings and, well, they resonate with me.”