Gemotions

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the overgrown garden. My sister, Grace, was examining the foundation, her brow furrowed. She wanted to demolish the entire structure. Rebuild something "modern."

I walked over, my fists clenched. This was the place where my parents had met. The place where I learned to ride a bike. Where I'd spent countless summers.

"It’s a money pit," she stated, matter-of-factly. Her voice seemed too loud in the quiet of the evening. I ignored her.

My hands trembled as I walked away, toward the ancient oak tree in the front yard. I would not allow it. I was going to preserve this place. This piece of my heart.