Louisiana, Late October

Nothing like waking up to cool air, getting a wife-on-the-way-to-work-sent text that says thanks for the Coldplay CD, u a good one, waking up your son, feeding him and watching dolphins and whales jump on the TV lazing in bed, heading over to Bluebonnet Swamp, not even caring that you forgot your camera because it could never capture the 48-degree breeze dragging leaves over the mud and gravel with cypress knees below and trembling branches up above as the smell of smoking cajun sausage travels through the thick alleys of trees, and taking a break at a bench while the kid eats puffs, leans against your chest, and pats his hand on your knee because he is your son, watching slow moving water lap against the trees as they slowly go to sleep, and then the kid walking down the path, sitting, drawing with a stick for hours, and no one there in the early morning to bother the kid, and no camera flash to bother the kid, and the kid happy and you happy, and a wedding to go to later, but now a bowl of steaming noodles and manda sausage and bell peppers and onions and tomatoes and cayenne and football on the TV while the kid sleeps.