Gemotions

The dusty attic held a treasure trove of forgotten memories. Her grandson, Alex, had told her he was joining the Baha'i faith. She was surrounded by the ghosts of her ancestors.

She found a box filled with old letters, photographs, and trinkets. She ran her fingers across an old diary, its pages filled with the elegant script of her grandmother. She recalled the stories her grandmother used to tell.

She sat on the floor amongst the remnants of the past. The dust motes danced in the sunlight. She felt a profound sense of connection to those who had come before, a sense of continuity.