Gemotions

The scent of lavender, still clinging to the old cedar chest, filled Amelia’s nostrils. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and forgotten letters, was her father’s list. "See the Northern Lights," it read, in his shaky handwriting. Amelia allowed herself a brief, fleeting moment of pity.

He had always been such a homebody, her father. She, on the other hand, had seen the world. Climbed mountains, navigated treacherous rapids. The sheer scope of her experiences dwarfed his modest ambitions. Amelia sighed, feeling a familiar warmth spread through her.