Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty windows of the spare bedroom, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air. Sarah flipped through a stack of neatly organized folders. Each one was a testament to her mother’s meticulous nature. Inside, she found artwork, science projects, and even the tiny, hand-drawn birthday cards that Sarah had given her as a child. A cold sensation tightened her stomach.

A kindergarten project, a construction of cotton balls and popsicle sticks, was particularly striking. The glue was still slightly tacky. She remembered the day she’d made it, her mother’s help in the endeavor. She felt a knot forming in her throat. Her mother had never spoken much of her own childhood. Why keep all this?

She leaned back against the wall, the folders slipping from her grasp, landing with a soft thud on the floor.