Gemotions

"Are you sure you want to be here, Mom?" David asked, his voice barely a whisper. He watched her gently touch the chipped paint of the front porch, the action seemingly frozen in time.

She didn't answer, instead, she just inhaled deeply, as if trying to absorb the air of the past. Her gaze, unfocused, swept over the overgrown garden, where, as a kid, he and his brother would make mud pies with their mother.

He knew what she was thinking. He felt it too, a heavy weight in his heart. It was the same feeling that followed every memory. Soon, this wouldn't be his mother's house any longer. It was the home of his father and mother.