Gemotions

The stump was raw and weeping, a jagged reminder of what was gone. Amelia ran a hand over the rough wood, the grain still visible. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek, but a tiny smile played on her lips. She closed her eyes, picturing the sapling, so small she could barely lift the shovel. Now, just a memory. She turned, walking towards the empty space with a lightness in her step. This blank canvas presented opportunity. She would plant another, a better one this time.