Gemotions

The spotlight felt warm, like a sunbeam on his face. He bounced on the balls of his feet, microphone in hand, and scanned the room. Smiling faces, the clinking of glasses, soft laughter – it was a perfect scene. His dad, a man of quiet stoicism, sat beaming at a table near the front, and he felt a surge of… something. A thrill. He cleared his throat, a grin splitting his face. “Well, folks,” he began, his voice surprisingly loud, “this is a day we’ve all been waiting for, right?”

He felt a pull in his chest, a lightness that made him want to launch into a song. He’d practiced the speech, of course, but the words felt like they were barely containing the feeling blossoming inside him. He remembered his mom saying, “don’t overdo it,” but he doubted that was even possible tonight. He gestured expansively. "Dad, you've always been an inspiration. Remember when..." The stories, the memories, came pouring out of him.

He was practically skipping as he walked back to his table after the speech. He sat down and found himself tapping his foot, unable to be still. It was his time to shine.