Gemotions

Sarah adjusted her glasses, the lenses blurring the room around her. She focused on her mother’s hands, clasped demurely in her lap, the skin etched with lines of a life well-lived. Sarah’s own hands were clenched tight under the table, knuckles bone-white. She felt the prickle of sweat between her shoulder blades.

She'd spent years avoiding the question of family, always too busy, too ambitious, to prioritize them. There were important meetings, deadlines, travel. They were always secondary to her own pursuits. Now, here she was, asked to share a few well-chosen words about this woman who deserved so much more.

She’d rehearsed the speech, the anecdotes, the praise. But the words seemed to stick in her throat, a bitter residue of unspoken truths. Looking at her mother, who always put her first, Sarah felt a tightening in her chest, a suffocating pressure.