Gemotions

The absence was a physical ache. The grand redwood, her childhood companion, reduced to a sawdust pile. The sun hit her face, but she felt cold. She stood rooted to the spot, a silent scream building in her chest.

She had climbed it countless times as a girl, each climb filled with hope. She ran her fingers through the coarse wood. It made her feel ill.

She looked around for a sign of life, a trace of its former glory. A small, green shoot poked through the dirt. She knelt down, touching it with a gentle finger. It was a sign of hope.