Gemotions

The scent of lavender, her mother’s favorite, clung to the pages of the composition books. Emily choked back a sob. It had been three months since the funeral, and the task of clearing out her mother's house was proving unbearable. Each carefully saved drawing, each painstakingly corrected spelling test, felt like a fresh wound.

She traced the dotted lines of her first attempt at cursive. She remembered the frustration, the impatience, the tantrums she’d thrown when learning. Her mother had patiently guided her, always believing, always encouraging, even when Emily had been at her most difficult.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, landing on a page filled with doodles of hearts. She had been so blind. So selfish. She felt a burning need, a desperate craving for a chance to go back.