Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam slicing through a crack in the boarded-up window. Sarah hummed a jaunty tune, her fingers already itching to rummage. This was a treasure hunt of sorts, a trip down memory lane, and she was already imagining all the awkward, embarrassing gems she’d unearth. Her mother’s meticulous organization, usually a source of mild frustration, was today a comedic goldmine.

She unearthed the first box. Inside, neatly stacked, were primary school drawings – stick figures with impossibly long limbs and suns with more rays than fingers on her own hand. A giggle escaped her lips. This was going to be fun.

She pulled out a crayon-scrawled poem about a fluffy white bunny, its rhyming scheme… questionable. Sarah’s face broke into a grin; she could practically hear her own childish voice, full of unearned confidence.