Gemotions

The musty odor that pervaded the house no longer bothered Clara. Instead, the smell was now interwoven with the memory of her grandmother, and made her smile. She spent her first morning there in the garden, planting herbs in the old, cracked terracotta pots.

She felt a gentle tug on her arm, like a new energy, and was invigorated by the physical activity. She worked diligently, finding a deep pleasure in the act of nurturing the earth. When she finally rose, her back ached pleasantly, and her heart felt surprisingly light.

"Maybe," she mused as she walked towards the house, "this is where I belong."