Gemotions

Sarah stared at the overflowing art supplies in the spare bedroom, the door slightly ajar and a smear of paint visible on the hallway wall. A sigh escaped her lips as she made her way into the kitchen. The kitchen counters, once clear and inviting, were now littered with clay and half-finished projects.

Her son, Leo, was immersed in a new pottery technique he'd seen on YouTube. The relentless clatter of his makeshift workshop had been driving her up the wall all morning.

"Breakfast, Leo," she called, her voice edged. He didn't respond, totally absorbed.

She made herself a piece of toast, feeling the familiar tension knot in her shoulders. The thing was, she’d loved to sculpt as a child. It was the only thing she felt truly passionate about at that age. Now, she just wished the passion had skipped a generation.