Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window as Martha dragged the dusty cardboard box across the floor. She knelt, her fingers tracing the faded lettering: "Sarah's School Days." A soft sigh escaped her lips. The air smelled of forgotten things: mothballs and old paper.

Inside, meticulously organized, were decades of her mother's work. A fourth-grade book report on Amelia Earhart, complete with a crudely drawn airplane. Martha smiled, picturing her mother, so small, so determined.

She gently lifted a science project – a papier-mâché volcano. The volcano had a small hole in its peak. Reaching into the hole, she felt something, a small piece of folded paper. Unfurling it, she read, “I love you, Mom. – Sarah.” Her eyes welled with tears.