Gemotions

The house seemed empty without Sarah. Michael, her son, knew that he had to be strong, to be the rock for his younger sister. He had to be responsible. Yet, sorting through their mother’s things felt like wading through quicksand.

He found a box tucked away under her bed. Inside, a chronological collection of their schoolwork. His and his sister's. He felt a stab of longing, a sudden inability to carry out a simple task. He remembered the comfort of her guidance, the ease with which she managed everything.

He pulled out his elementary school art projects, his drawings of dinosaurs and rocket ships. The vivid colours seemed to mock his inability to make the smallest decision, now that his mother was gone. He felt the familiar pull of a helplessness he thought he’d outgrown.