Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Amelia's face as she sat on the porch swing, a half-finished cross-stitch project resting in her lap. The rhythmic creak of the swing, the gentle chirping of crickets, and the distant laughter of children playing in the park all blended into a soothing symphony. She stretched, feeling the satisfying pop in her back, and then picked up her needle, ready to thread it with another vibrant hue. Her daughter, Lily, who used to beg her to stop, was now inside, happily poring over Amelia's collection of embroidery floss, meticulously arranging the colours in a rainbow on the dining room table. Amelia smiled, remembering how the younger girl would make her mad with endless questions. Now, she was making her proud.