Gemotions

"Mom, can we talk about what you did in fifth grade?" Sarah, her daughter, asked, picking at her fingernails. They were in the car, and Claire felt a prickling heat beginning in her chest. She had to take a deep breath to stop her face turning red. Mrs. Peterson, the woman who had been her own fifth-grade teacher, was now teaching Sarah.

“What do you mean, honey?” Claire asked, trying to sound casual, but her voice was tight.

“Mrs. Peterson said you were… a bit of a chatterbox.” Sarah kept looking at the window. Claire cleared her throat. She found herself trying to recall every instance, every little misdemeanor, every bad grade. It was a blur of memories, and most of them were embarrassing.

“Oh, well, you know, kids are kids,” Claire said, forcing a laugh. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. The car ride felt like an eternity.