Gemotions

The scent of cedar and old paper filled Sarah's nostrils as she lifted the lid of the dusty cedar chest. It was tucked away in the back of the linen closet, a secret repository of her mother's past. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and faded photographs, were the artifacts of her childhood. Each report card, each handwritten essay, brought a surge of warmth to her chest.

She picked up a crumpled sheet of paper with her sixth-grade science project on the solar system. The planets, rendered in crayon and glitter, were a riot of color. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she remembered the late nights spent crafting it.

She carefully held up a particularly bad math test, a sea of red ink marking all the mistakes. She remembered how her mother had stayed up with her, patiently explaining concepts until they finally clicked. It had been years ago, but the feeling of her support was as clear as the ink on the page.

Sarah closed the chest, a quiet resolve hardening her gaze. She would go and visit her mother tomorrow, and make sure she knew how much she was appreciated.