Gemotions

The house felt like a stranger's. My mother, once a staunch atheist, had discovered Christianity. The walls, once bare, were now adorned with scripture and inspirational posters. I picked up a book of Psalms and thumbed through it, not understanding the words.

She had always been a rock, a constant in my life. Now, she was different. Her laughter was more restrained, her gaze often turned inward, as if listening to something I couldn't hear.

“Do you like it?” she asked, gesturing towards a new, ornate cross hanging above the fireplace. I nodded, but my throat felt constricted. There was a distance between us now, a chasm I didn’t know how to cross. I wanted her back.