Gemotions

The aroma of cinnamon and sugar wafted from the kitchen, a familiar comfort. Sarah’s hands, usually a blur of nervous energy, were unusually still as she watched her daughter, Emily, meticulously arrange a plate of apple strudel. Emily, her face illuminated by the morning sun, finally looked up, her eyes sparkling. “Mom, would you mind taking this over to Grandma’s? I want to tell her in person.” Sarah’s chest felt warm, a gentle expansion as she readily agreed. She felt a deep swell of approval for the effort Emily was making. She knew how difficult the conversation would be. She carefully wrapped the strudel and set off.