Gemotions

"You can take the guest room," Martha's mother said, her voice a little shaky. Martha, watching her mother, saw the effort she was putting into keeping a brave face.

Martha followed her down the hall, taking in the framed photographs, the crocheted doilies. She was flooded with memories: of a childhood, of safety, of belonging.

As she began to unpack, she noticed her mother had already washed the sheets and left a vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand. There was a small, handwritten note: *Welcome home, love.*

Martha blinked, her eyes stinging. She felt a lightness in her chest, a feeling of deep appreciation for her mother.