I drifted off last night with George on my mind, quietly asking what he might think about me writing this blog. To my surprise, he showed up in my dreams. It felt so real—like he was alive again, moving through time and space beside me—until morning pulled me back.

 

Soooo… what’s happening in your little corner of Earth and time right now?

Ah, I understand…

Oh my goodness…

I hear you…

Mmm, I get it…

Oh wow…

These little talks always make me smile.

George

 

This dream was a comfort—a sweet glimpse of George that I carried with me over coffee this morning.

Just like when we were kids, George was with me—right there, the way he always seemed to be when we were growing up.

My heart floods with joy—my brother, here he is!

Then at last, he comes close enough, and I grab his hand, wrapping it in both of mine.

I hold on with everything I’ve got—so thankful, so overwhelmed—to have him right there again.

Back then, having him by my side was everything.

I’m grateful I could hold on to a few pieces of it, like snapshots from the brain’s late-night movie.

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