Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Amelia's face as she waited outside the school. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak tree, a comforting sound she'd known since childhood. She watched the other parents, the excited chatter of children a familiar symphony. It had been a lovely day at the bakery; the smell of fresh bread still lingered on her clothes. Then she spotted him, her son Leo, emerging from the double doors with his book bag slung over his shoulder.

“Leo!” she called, her voice soft.

He bounded towards her, his face alight. “Mom! Guess what? Mr. Henderson is my teacher this year!”

Amelia froze, a smile spreading across her features. Mr. Henderson. It had been thirty years, but the name sparked a warmth in her chest, a memory of a time when the world seemed simpler. She squeezed Leo’s hand, feeling the smallness of it in hers. "Wow," she said, her tone unhurried, "that's amazing."