Gemotions

The sycamore was gone, uprooted in the night, a casualty of the relentless wind. Maria noticed the next morning. She stood in her robe, her arms crossed, watching the cleanup crew.

She remembered the tree as a sapling. She recalled the day she saw the property for sale and pictured herself in it. She loved its sprawling branches and the way the sun dappled through the leaves in the summer. It made her feel grounded.

She walked out to her car, but the view struck her. She saw the open space where it had been and felt a strange emptiness. She stopped and leaned on the roof of her car. She looked at the sky and thought of her sister. She slowly drove away, not looking back.