Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Ms. Rodriguez’s tidy garden. She knelt, trowel in hand, meticulously weeding around her prize-winning rose bushes. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, but she felt no peace. An internal pressure kept her in motion.

She had already pruned the hedges, swept the patio, and even polished the outdoor furniture. But the feeling wouldn't abate. She stood up and brushed the dirt from her hands, a sigh escaping her lips.

A delivery van pulled up to her driveway. A large, awkwardly shaped box was left on her porch. It was from Samuel, a student she recalled having to encourage and motivate. The box contained a hand-carved wooden birdhouse, a miniature replica of her own home. A note read: "Thanks for always making me feel like I had a place to belong." Ms. Rodriguez’s shoulders relaxed a little as she examined the intricately crafted work.