Gemotions

The garden was her haven, a riot of color and fragrance that she carefully cultivated year after year. Her hands always deep in the soil. Now, however, the familiar sight of her daughter, Chloe, meticulously weeding the rose bushes filled her with a feeling she couldn't articulate.

Chloe, who usually preferred the indoors, was down on her knees, carefully pruning the rose stems. Her face was flushed with exertion, her eyes alight with purpose. "Mom, these aphids are a menace," she declared, her voice filled with a determination that both amused and bewitched her mother. Her fingers fidgeted.