Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the small bakery, a symphony of warm yeast and sweet spices. Maya, her hands dusted with flour, hummed a tuneless melody as she shaped the dough. This was hers; this was right. She could almost feel the warmth of the oven in the air.

The task of going through her mother’s possessions had been put off. She knew it would be difficult, emotionally exhausting. She didn’t want to go digging up old memories.

The box of memories, however, held far more than she expected. There were sketches, stories, and even recipes from her mother’s school days. A handwritten recipe for her favorite cookies caused a welling of unshed tears. She felt so connected to the woman she’d lost.