Gemotions

"You see that big one over there?" I'd told my kids, pointing at the spot on the old family farm. "That's the tree I planted when I was your age." Now, there was just a gaping hole. I'd brought them here for a nostalgic day, a lesson on the cycle of life.

I felt a surge of heat rush up my neck. I cleared my throat, suddenly fascinated by a distant hawk circling overhead. I quickly changed the subject, launching into a story about a different tree, one that no longer existed. My explanation of its loss was rushed and lacked detail. The kids looked at me, confused.