Gemotions

The old, wooden dollhouse sat in the corner of the spare bedroom, its paint chipped and faded. It had been his mother’s, and then his sister’s, and then his daughter’s. He remembered his sister meticulously arranging the tiny furniture. He could see his daughter’s bright eyes, her joyful laughter, as she played with it. He found himself almost smiling at the thought.

He knelt down, running his finger along the chipped roof. The air seemed filled with the ghosts of childhood, the echoes of countless hours spent in imaginative play. He remembered the Christmas morning his sister, and then his daughter, first saw the dollhouse, and the look of wonder and happiness that had lit up their faces.

His brother, David, cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “We need to get it ready for transport. The buyer's coming tomorrow." The practicalities of the present intruded. He felt a stab of something in his chest. How could he let this go? It was a portal to a time that had vanished.