Jesse called in a reflective mood, a good mood really, one that's been lacking of late. It was late afternoon, I'd just laid down on the couch with my book, but my eyes were heavy, a nap was waiting. Because so many times on the days when he calls four or five times with nothing much to say, I rush him off impatiently, and because this time he was upbeat and chatty for a change, I stayed on the line and let him talk. I listened, eyes closed. He talked. I umm hmmed. "Emotions," he said. "What are they, really? I mean are they related to nerves? Or brain chemistry?" I opened my eyes. The roses I got for Valentine's Day were beginning to wilt. Emotions. Me, the one in the family who is all for feeling them, expressing them, discussing them. What were they, really? "Brain chemistry, mostly, I think-- the rush of endorphins, serotonin, dopamine . . . all that. Why?" "Well, I was thinking, " he said hesitantly, ...
Life is a series of snapshots meant to be recorded in words. A writer and photographer shares hers.