Gemotions

“Now, remember, the rhythm is the key,” Michael said, tapping his foot as he watched his daughter, Sarah, struggle with the complex drum beat. His own youthful days were defined by the pulsating energy of his drum set. Her attempt was a little clumsy, but her determination was inspiring.

He guided her hand gently, correcting her technique. The drumming was now a symphony of shared laughter and concentration. He paused to watch her, feeling a swell of something in his chest. A sense of belonging, perhaps?

The basement echoed with the joyful sounds of music. The day was alive with color.