Gemotions

Sunlight warmed my face as I sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creaks a soothing balm. My sister, Clara, flitted about the overgrown garden, her brow furrowed in a perpetual frown. She wanted to rip everything out, start anew. I, however, wanted to see what life had seeded.

The weeds, I noticed, were just as vibrant as the old roses.

Clara kept calling out, "Are you *sure* we don't need to till this whole thing?" I took a long breath, watching her fuss with a spade. The smell of damp earth, of decaying leaves, of the garden's life force filled my lungs. "Just give it a little time, Clara," I finally called back. "Let's see what blooms."

A robin chirped nearby, and I smiled, allowing the gentleness of the day to wash over me, hoping it would soak into my sister's soul too.