Thinking Too Much

I have friends who say I think too much. Possibly, they are correct. For instance, when typing the title for this blog I debated on whether or not the word "too" should be capitalized. As a fledgling editor, that is probably something I should know, and I could easily look it up in my Chicago Style Manual or any of a number of places online.

But ... I don't and I didn't.

I did think about it.

I am sitting on the patio, cup of coffee at hand and thinking about not thinking.


It is in moments like these that I feel just a twinge of panic, a fear of what I will feel when I can no longer sit on the patio, watch the bayou, listen to the birds, look for old owl. I had a moment last night, when I was out with friends listening to good Cajun music, and trying to dance the Cajun two-step while discovering that I cannot talk and dance at the same time. It was in those moments, between dances, when I sat back to watch others dance, that I recalled one of my first impressions of Louisiana.

Everybody here, no matter the age or the mental ability, dances when the accordion plays. It is a joy to watch families, from toddlers to octagenarians, taking to the floor and doing a more than passable two-step. Last night, as I watched, I had more than a moment to miss that.

This morning is another of those moments. I don't have the photographic ability to catch the shimmer of the water in the morning sun, nor the ability to record the birds as their conversation carries from tree to tree. I have only my words to say, this morning, that good-bye, even when it's right, sometimes carries as much pain as when it is wrong.