Gemotions

The realtor had told Maya to clean out her childhood bedroom before listing the house. The thought had filled her with dread. She’d procrastinated for weeks. Now, facing the task, her breath hitched in her throat.

A trunk in the corner revealed a shocking discovery: every single piece of artwork she'd ever created, every test, every spelling quiz. Her mother had held onto it all, a silent record of her achievements and shortcomings. She felt a familiar hollowness, a sensation of being anchored to this space, to the memory of her mother's care.

She ran her fingers over a faded crayon drawing. She remembered the pride she felt, the encouragement she received. It was a warmth that had always been present, and she wondered how she would deal with the cold when it was removed.