After Me,
The concept of the ellipsis, the idea that simply by adding enough stopping points that you could cause an idea to continue, astounds me. An ending. That’s what a period is, right? It stops a thought. Finished. Kaput. And yet, upon a second swing-by of the idea, it grows on you. You see, a period isn’t just a stop, it’s the creation of a start too. By ending, you can start again. Without a period, there would never be room to take a breath and begin fresh. Finally, a period ends things. It doesn’t drag on, doesn’t require additional thought. It hermetically seals leaking words.
This really wasn’t what I had intended to write about.
I had a marvelous night. I met one of my favorite new authors, had dinner with friends, and laughed until my smile hurt. I made plans and hatched schemes and, and, and. I guess words don’t really describe it. Calling it magical would be cliche. Nothing happened tonight that couldn’t have happened any other night. Calling it memorable would be a lie. I want to have so many nights like this one that they run together like ice melting into water. Calling it fun would be foolish. The word fun can no more describe my friends than a picture can smell like homemade bread.
So, call it necessary, call it enlightenment, call it therapy. Whatever you call it, please don’t let it ever end.
K.
PS. This period business requires some more thought.
