What do I say? Strange how it can be so easy to write about trivial things, but when it comes to something important, words become scarce. My cousin, Brian, died yesterday. And just typing that makes me think I'm composing fiction. No matter what the circumstances, 27 just seems too young. Jessie and I always thought of him as kind of an older brother growing up, and this news hits intermittently, like a dream where you wake and have trouble deciding if it was, in fact, real or not. Meanwhile, we have to pack up Jessie's stuff a few days earlier and head up to Atlanta tomorrow (she'll go on back to Furman from there). There the reality will be stronger, but our family can be so strong for each other that I'll be thankful to be there, I think.