Gemotions

The gentle rocking motion of the porch swing lulled Michael into a state of pleasant repose. He watched the fireflies blink in the twilight, their tiny lights punctuating the darkness. The air was thick with the scent of honeysuckle, a fragrance that always brought back good memories. He had just finished reading a book, his mind clear.

His daughter, Chloe, ran out, her pigtails bouncing. “Dad, guess what? Mrs. Roberts is my teacher! Just like you!” she exclaimed.

Michael’s eyes widened slightly. Mrs. Roberts. It was a familiar feeling. He remembered her gentle demeanor, her encouraging words. He felt an easy smile stretch across his face. He watched Chloe begin to tell him about her day.