Gemotions

"Oh, this is brilliant," I breathed, taking in the freshly painted walls of my old room. The pastel blue felt soothing, like a gentle hug. My mom, hovering in the doorway, beamed.

My hands, usually fidgety, were unusually still as I surveyed the space. Every item felt a part of a puzzle, ready to be put in its rightful place. Even the chipped window sill felt welcoming.

The world seemed to shrink, condensing into the safety and the memories that were housed within these walls. My chest felt light, like I was carrying nothing but a balloon. The prospect of lazy breakfasts and movie nights with my parents filled me with a deep, quiet energy.