Gemotions

The kindergarten classroom seemed smaller than she remembered. Perhaps it was the miniature chairs, the crayon-covered tables, or the way the sunlight hit the polished wood floor. Her chest tightened as she watched Mrs. Gable greet each student with a smile. It was the same smile, the same gentle way of smoothing a child's hair, that had marked her own school days. She felt a prickle of heat behind her eyes.

Her daughter, Lily, skipped ahead, oblivious to the history unfolding. "Mommy, look!" Lily chirped, pointing to a drawing of a rainbow. The vivid colours of the crayons seemed to amplify the already bright room. She forced a smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes, honey, that's beautiful," she said, her voice a little too high, a little too shaky. The lump in her throat made it hard to swallow. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with memories she hadn't realised she still carried.