Gemotions

“Climb Mount Fuji.” Sarah stared at the words, the ink blurring slightly through her tears. Her mother, a woman who always complained about the smallest exertion, had wanted to climb a mountain? Sarah felt a sting behind her eyes, the familiar precursor to a torrent of weeping.

She sat on the floor of her childhood bedroom, surrounded by boxes of her mother’s things. The room felt like a tomb. Each item, each memory, felt like a fresh wound. She clutched the list to her chest, the paper crinkling in her grasp. The list was a painful reminder of what could have been.