Gemotions

"Just throw it away, Mom," her son had said. But the letter from her estranged daughter, delivered by a mutual friend, remained unopened on the counter. The vibrant colors of the fruit bowl seemed to taunt her. She’d spent the last twenty years trying to fill the emptiness her daughter’s silence had created.

She went through the motions of making dinner, the clatter of pots and pans a jarring counterpoint to the quiet devastation that had settled over her heart. The house felt too big, the silence too profound. She found herself staring at the empty chair at the dining table.

She picked up the envelope again, tracing the familiar curve of her daughter's handwriting. She wanted to know, but she was so terribly afraid. She returned it to the counter, unable to bring herself to open it.