Gemotions

The doorbell rang, a harsh, unwelcome sound that sliced through the evening quiet. Maya, slumped against the counter, rubbed her temples, trying to ward off the throbbing headache that had taken up residence behind her eyes. It was a package from her aunt. Her mother’s belongings were being cleared out.

The box was stuffed with familiar things, a mixture of the comforting and the strange. Amidst the porcelain dolls and crocheted doilies, she unearthed a large, heavy binder. Inside, page after page, were all of her school papers. Every single one. Essays, tests, drawings, report cards – all meticulously preserved, tucked inside plastic sleeves.

She stared, dumbfounded, at a faded crayon drawing of a house with a smiling sun. The effort to process it seemed to have drained her. A knot formed in her stomach. Why had her mother kept all this? What did it mean? She sat with the binder on her lap, and felt her body get heavy.