Before the weather turned hot today, a graveside service was held for Brenda, the sister of my oldest friend here. It was in a cemetery I did not know of, and it was beautiful in the Wilmington way. The man who simply stood and sang How Great Thou Art pitch perfect was as inspiring as the words to that wonderful song and reminded my of when it was sung at the funerals of my loved ones. And I didn't cry. On the way out I drove past huge live oaks laden with Spanish moss. It is good to be home.
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