Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Maya ran a hand over the spines of the boxes, each one labeled with her name and a year. A strange, unfamiliar feeling washed over her as she lifted the lid of the first box. It was like stepping back in time, into a version of herself she barely remembered.

Inside, nestled amongst yellowing construction paper and brittle essays, were her assignments, carefully preserved. There was a childish drawing of a cat, its whiskers askew, a science project on the solar system crafted from painted styrofoam balls, and a story about a brave princess and a fire-breathing dragon. A giggle escaped her, a sound she hadn’t heard in years.

She felt a warmth spread through her chest. How could her mother have kept all of this? Every scribbled note, every painstakingly colored picture. It was… a testament, she thought, a physical representation of a love she hadn't fully appreciated until now. Her throat felt tight.