Gemotions

Margaret carefully unfolded the aged paper. The handwriting, hers, was a familiar dance across the page, a younger, more frantic version of herself spilling words onto the parchment. She hadn’t seen this letter in decades, a missive intended for her mother, filled with angsty teenage declarations. A slow smile spread across her face.

The sun, streaming through the window, illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air as she reread the accusations and the hurt. She’d been so convinced her mother didn’t understand. Now, though, reading it, she saw a young woman grappling with the same pressures she had felt herself a few years ago.

She felt a lightness in her chest, a weight lifted. She closed her eyes, imagining the scene – her mother, receiving this outpouring of teenage fury. It never happened. A deep breath. She could finally allow herself to put the past to rest.