Gemotions

The sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air of the apartment. Amelia picked up the list from the kitchen table. Her mother's handwriting, slightly shaky, filled the page. "Take a pottery class." "Learn to bake bread." "Visit a vineyard in Tuscany."

She remembered her mother’s last birthday, her wistful sigh when they had talked about travelling to Italy. A lump formed in Amelia’s throat. The kitchen, once filled with her mother’s boisterous laughter and the comforting aroma of her cooking, felt hollow now.

Amelia ran a finger across the list, a deep welling of feeling inside her. She felt compelled to reach out and touch something else from this shared history, and she knew what needed to be done.