Gemotions

The U-Haul shuddered to a halt, directly in front of the house where he’d taken his first steps, a place he hadn’t lived in for fifteen years. He hopped out, stretching, a small smile playing on his lips. His father emerged from the front door, a toolbox in his hands.

"Need a hand, son?" his father asked, his voice rough but warm. He gestured towards the boxes, and the younger man beamed.

He began directing his father on where to put his belongings, his chest feeling expansive. He had spent his savings on a new, top-of-the-line refrigerator, which he insisted on installing first. "Careful with the doors, Dad," he’d say, holding a hand up.

Later that evening, sitting at the dinner table, he regaled his parents with stories of his past jobs, his voice animated and filled with a warmth that seemed to radiate through the room. He felt… well, he felt really, really good.