Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit hummed, a monotonous drone that matched the tempo of my day. I stood before the mountain of boxes, my arms hanging limp at my sides. Cleaning out Mom's storage unit felt like a monumental effort, but I supposed I had no choice.

Inside a box labeled "Elementary," I found a treasure trove of my elementary school history. Math tests, writing prompts, and even artwork were all cataloged. The sheer volume felt overwhelming.

I flipped through a booklet from a science fair project. The handwriting, once so familiar, now seemed distant. The meticulous presentation, the diagrams drawn with such care, gave rise to a warmth. The weight of her absence felt lessened by the tangible evidence of her devotion. My movements became almost imperceptible as I continued to rifle through the contents.