Gemotions

The sheer destruction of it – the way the old oak had splintered, the way its roots were ripped from the earth – shook something loose within David. It was a potent brew of emotions he didn’t recognize, but it filled him with vigor. He felt the need to get his hands dirty, to create something.

He pulled out his sketching pad, the paper a blank canvas of potential. He pictured a sculpture. Massive. Powerful. Something that would capture the raw energy of the moment. He ran over to the fallen tree, circling it, studying it, already mentally sculpting the form. He had to begin.

“Well, isn’t this a mess,” his neighbor said. David just smiled, a grin stretching across his face. “It certainly is,” he replied, his eyes dancing. “But a beautiful mess.”