Gemotions

The scent of cedar and old paper filled Eleanor’s nostrils as she sifted through boxes in the basement. Her mother, the paragon of domesticity, had always painted a picture of a quiet, settled life. A life of knitting and baking. The photograph, however, showed a woman in a dazzling dress, standing on a stage with a microphone in her hand. A spotlight shone directly on her.

A warmth spread through her, chasing away the chill of the damp basement. She picked up the photo and held it close, a grin spreading across her face. "Wow," she breathed, picturing the vibrant lights and the crowds. A new song began forming in her head.