Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as Liam walked purposefully toward the old oak tree. His mind was at ease, anticipating the sight of the strong tree he had planted as a boy. It had always been a symbol of constancy, resilience.

He arrived at the familiar spot and came to a halt. The tree was gone. He looked at the stump, the raw wood exposed to the elements. He ran his hand over it.

"That's all right," he murmured, his gaze sweeping the landscape. "A fresh start!" He pulled a small packet of seeds from his pocket, ready to take advantage of the open space.