Gemotions

The invitation to the temple arrived on pristine, cream-colored stationery. Her son, Michael, was converting to Judaism. She couldn't read the script without squinting, the words swimming before her eyes.

She had always imagined her son's future in a way that included her traditions, the familiar rituals, the comfort of their shared heritage. Now, it felt like the ground beneath her feet was shifting. The letter slipped from her grasp and landed on the polished wood floor.

She closed her eyes, fighting back the sting of unshed tears. When she opened them, her gaze fell upon the picture of Michael, smiling and carefree, from his tenth birthday. A wave of regret washed over her, a deep and aching sadness.