Gemotions

The gentle rocking motion of the hammock was a balm to her soul. She lay beneath the shade of the sprawling mango tree, the sweet scent of the fruit hanging heavy in the air. The chirping of birds created a pleasant symphony, and the sunlight filtering through the leaves dappled the grass below. The simple pleasure of doing nothing was something she cherished.

A small, wiry man emerged from the house, squinting in the bright sunlight. He approached her, a cautious expression on his face.

"Are you all right, dear?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She nodded, opening her eyes. "Perfectly fine, thank you."

They spoke briefly, and he seemed reassured. He had been a doctor, he mentioned with a sigh. It was then that he described the tremors. The shaking that came on at the most inconvenient times.

She held her breath. She knew the tremor.

"Do your hands ever shake uncontrollably?" she asked.

He looked at her, and his face lit with recognition. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Essential Tremor, right?" she asked.

"Yes," he responded. "Do you have it, too?"