ROSES IN DECEMBER
All my life I’ve tried to train my brain to take snapshots. When I’m in a moment that I find particularly moving or beautiful or funny, I sometimes hear this tiny little director behind my eyes suddenly whip out his megaphone, adjust his beret and yell PLACES EVERYONE—FREEZE FRAME! “SSSSSHHHH,” I tell him, “You’re ruining the moment. Be quiet.” And he frowns and looks indignant and mumbles something about just doing his job. I don’t remember when I became conscious of doing this: consciously trying to save a memory. Perhaps around the age of 9 or 10, the same time...