Gemotions

The silence in the kitchen was deafening, broken only by the ticking of the clock. My daughter, Lily, had announced she was joining the Baha’i faith. My husband, Robert, was sitting at the table, his shoulders slumped, his face pale. I felt a hollowness in my chest, a sensation of emptiness.

I stared at the half-eaten breakfast, suddenly repulsed by the food. I found myself snapping at Robert when he asked a simple question. The words felt raw as they left my mouth. My vision blurred.

I excused myself and went to the back yard, where I began to weed, something I normally found therapeutic. Today, the weeds seemed to mock me. Each tug, each pull, felt like a battle I was doomed to lose.