Gemotions

Michael clutched the crumpled flyer advertising the Parent-Teacher conference. Mr. Henderson. The same Mr. Henderson who, twenty-five years ago, had patiently guided him through the confusing world of fractions and friendships. He felt a sudden, almost childish, desire to tell Mr. Henderson how much his guidance had meant.

He arrived at the conference early, shuffling his feet in the oversized chair. He found himself smiling at the familiar smell of chalk and the worn linoleum floor. The anticipation was a gentle hum inside him.

When Mr. Henderson greeted him, his eyes crinkled in a way Michael remembered. His voice was just as calm and reassuring. Michael talked a little too much about his son, John. He spoke about John's potential, and about his own relief at the thought of his boy being in such capable hands. He left feeling lighter, the weight of worry he often carried significantly lessened.