Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty workshop as I tried to focus on my woodworking. My hands trembled slightly as I held the chisel. My granddaughter, Emily, had shared her embrace of Sikhism with the family that morning. I had been planning a trip to the beach with her for weeks, but now I knew the trip was off.

I dropped the chisel. It clattered on the concrete floor. The silence in the room was broken only by the incessant chirping of crickets. The work felt pointless, the craft I had once loved suddenly meaningless. I leaned against a workbench, feeling profoundly depleted.