Gemotions

I walked into the guest room, the air a dense and musty blanket. Cleaning out my mother’s house after her passing was more than I thought it would be. I opened the first box, a wave of familiar smells hitting me – old paper, chalk dust, and something else I couldn't place. I slowly sank down onto the floor, my legs not wanting to cooperate. Inside, a collection of my childhood report cards, each one carefully preserved. My eyes scanned the grades, the teacher’s comments. A profound sense of… something, washed over me. I felt the slow, steady pull of gravity.