I had an unexpected and lovely chat with my cousin Kyle today. Growing up with him, I've known that he's always marched to the beat of his own drummer. While most of my younger relatives are athletes, Kyle has always sided more on the artistic side. He even painted his grandpa Charlie so well that there's no mistaking who the painting is of.
I haven't seen Kyle since Easter, and aside from holidays I don't get to see him much. But today he surprised me by sending me a message. He moved to New Orleans and loves it. He works at an art gallery (he even gets to post his own art), is subleasing a home near the French Quarter, is enthralled with the history and architecture of the area, and spends his evenings socializing with neighbors and their families on their front porches. It sounds amazing, and I'm happy for him.