Gemotions

Eliza sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a gentle counterpoint to the chirping of crickets. The photos lay in her lap, scattered like fallen leaves. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming roses.

The photos revealed a secret life of her great-great-grandmother. A woman always portrayed as a saint, was depicted drinking champagne and playing poker. She laughed in a way that made Eliza smile, the carefree joy radiating from the picture.

A deep breath, and a slow exhale released a tension Eliza hadn’t known she carried. It was like finally letting go, and finding herself falling into a soft, inviting embrace. It was an embrace of the past that she never knew.