Gemotions

The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the lawn. A soft warmth enveloped Martha as she sat on her porch swing, idly watching the leaves drift from the maple tree. She took a slow sip of her iced tea, the condensation cool against her hand. A flash of brown fur and a happy bark shattered the tranquility. Buster, the neighbor’s golden retriever, was once again attempting a yard invasion.

Martha sighed, a gentle puff of air. She placed her tea on the small table and pushed herself slowly to her feet. The effort felt minimal, like moving through water.

“Hello, Buster,” she murmured as she reached the edge of her yard. He wagged his entire body, a symphony of tail wags. He clearly enjoyed his freedom. She gently steered him towards the gap in the fence, her pace measured and slow. She didn't mind. She found the repetitive task soothing.