Gemotions

The porch swing creaked rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth. Sunlight warmed Amelia's face as she watched the hummingbirds flit around the feeder, a blur of red and green. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak tree overhead, creating a soothing whisper. Her grandmother’s silver locket, cool against her skin, felt familiar and comforting. The phone call earlier that morning, her cousin asking about purchasing the locket, seemed a distant, insignificant problem. She took another sip of her iced tea.

She closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the summer afternoon wash over her. The faint scent of honeysuckle drifted from the climbing vines nearby. The idea of parting with the locket, with a piece of her grandmother, felt wrong somehow. She would need to think about it later, she decided, for now, the gentle rocking of the swing and the warmth of the sun were all that mattered.

A mockingbird's song filled the air. She smiled, a small, private smile. The world seemed to slow down.