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As I write this, we just learned this morning that we lost our dear friend and colleague, Kyle Lee, over the weekend. It’s difficult to go through the motions of working in his absence, expecting to see him crossing the lobby in his slow, loping stride any minute. The little statue on my bookshelf of a raccoon roasting marshmallows over a campfire — Kyle got me that, for no reason except he saw it and thought of me. Kyle was kind. He was gentle. He was a writer. He wrote beautiful poems and stories. He was a husband. His family will never be the same. He was a father. His daughter will miss him for the rest of her life.
It feels silly and empty to write about my coursework this week, but I can’t shirk my duty to those who have come here for information about the MAIS. So here we go! For my poetry class, we’re supposed to partner up, shadow each other on a ride, then write a poem together and prepare a presentation for class — a lot to do in just a week, and my daughter is sick, so my partner and I had to do remote-ridealongs. Tomorrow, she’s stopping by so we can write together. For Foundations, Dr. Hammonds has mercifully excused us from assignments for the week. Bless him forever.
At home, my daughter has strep, and I’m starting to feel not-so-hot myself. Here at work, a lot just landed on my plate because administrative tasks are no respecter of the Great Mystery of Life and Death. They just keep coming, and someone has to do them, so while we’d all rather drink margaritas and cry, we’re at our computers doing stuff, because life goes on.
Sorry if it sounds trite, but please take my advice: hug the people you love today. Tell them you love them. Take no one and nothing for granted. Life is fragile and fleeting.
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