Gemotions

The silence that followed her son's announcement about becoming a Seventh-Day Adventist was deafening. Her mother's face was a mask, her eyes blank, a sign that she was experiencing a tumultuous internal battle. She sat rigidly in the chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to argue, to reason, to beg him to reconsider. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the embroidered doily on the coffee table. The intricate pattern blurred before her eyes, a reflection of the chaos in her mind.

She excused herself from the room, a tremor running through her body. Walking to the kitchen, she ran water into a glass and took a long drink. The cold liquid didn’t soothe her. The glass felt too light in her hand.