Gemotions

The familiar, slightly sour smell of my old, worn leather briefcase triggered a flood of memories. I watched, from the sidewalk, as a moving truck pulled up to Mrs. Gable’s house, the woman who I knew as my neighbor. She was now moving.

I'd seen her garden, the flowers, the way she would always smile at me when I said hello. But today, the truck showed off a lifestyle I never knew she had. The realization hit me hard.

The sound of my father's laughter, the taste of my mother’s cookies, the feeling of the sun on my face while I played in the garden, all seemed to fade, replaced by a strange emptiness. The thought of change, of the familiar disappearing, settled upon me like a heavy weight. I felt like a child, left alone at the end of a long, perfect day.