Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Elias, however, barely noticed. He hummed a jaunty tune, the sound swallowed by the cavernous space. He’d stumbled upon a trunk overflowing with his childhood belongings – a treasure trove he’d long forgotten. He grinned, anticipating the nostalgic trip down memory lane.

He knelt, his back creaking in protest, and lifted the heavy lid. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed photographs and forgotten toys, were dozens of neatly labeled folders. “School – First Grade,” one declared. Another, “Math – Third Grade.” A chuckle escaped his lips as he realized the full extent of his mother’s meticulous archiving.

Reaching in, he retrieved a crumpled drawing of a lopsided house from Kindergarten. He straightened it carefully, a warm sensation spreading through his chest. He imagined his mother’s pride in her careful record-keeping. What a magnificent woman she was.