Gemotions

The wind seemed to whisper accusations as Clara watched the construction crew finish the last picket. She’d spent weeks agonizing over the placement of her own vegetable garden, then had given up. Now, her neighbor’s perfectly planned, orderly garden was framed by their brand-new, handsome fence.

A hot flush crept up her neck. She’d been so sure she could cultivate a thriving garden. She’d envisioned herself, effortlessly harvesting plump tomatoes and fragrant herbs. But the reality was a struggling patch of withered seedlings.

She felt a tightening in her stomach, a familiar ache. Every detail of the new fence – the straight lines, the even spacing of the pickets – highlighted her perceived lack of control, her inability to get *anything* right.

Clara turned away from the window, the image of her neighbor's success a painful jab. She retreated inside.