Gemotions

"Oh, my," I whispered, staring at the screen. The listing photos were crisp and clear. The house looked exactly as I remembered, perhaps even better kept than when my parents lived there. A tear trickled down my cheek, not of sadness, but of a strange kind of comfort.

I remembered the countless hours spent playing in the backyard. The swing set, the crooked fence, the old oak tree – all were still there. The listing agent even included a picture of the view from my old bedroom window. My breathing slowed.

I put the laptop aside, got up, and began to tidy up my apartment, organizing books and wiping down surfaces. I played some music. A sense of gentle warmth settled within me.