Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Elara ambled up the familiar path. She’d been anticipating this visit all week, a simple pilgrimage to a memory. Reaching the clearing, she placed her canvas bag gently on the ground.

Her breath came steady, a gentle rhythm in her chest. She surveyed the space, her gaze moving slowly.

Where the sturdy oak had stood, now there was only a stump, freshly cut. A wave of understanding passed over her, not a shock, more of a quiet acceptance. She picked up a fallen leaf, turning it over and over in her fingers. The veins were a beautiful, intricate map.

She bent and examined the fresh cut of the tree. The rings of growth were visible, a testament to the years. A slight smile played on her lips. It was just a tree, after all.