For Carly.

I didn't know Carly Donohue very well, but I was drawn to her classiness, her style, and her sense of adventure as soon as I met her. When we first crossed paths last winter at a friend's football party, I admired her outfit so I started talking to her. Next thing I knew, we were casual acquaintances and facebook "friends."

Charleston unfortunately lost Carly to her relentless sense of adventure this week, and friends are shocked at the news. Although she and I never had the chance to foster a close friendship, I also share the feeling of loss.

But let's not let this post become just a dirge. My real point is that, all day long, the menial activities that I face on Thursdays--listening to my boss randomly bark orders at me, eating too many french fries at Five Guys, paying my car taxes--have seemed particularly important. The ironic thing about death is that it reminds us of life, and how full of wonder it can be.

In the biography I'm reading about E.B. White it describes how, even when White was a child, he was acutely aware of the danger involved in human life and the fragility in each day. When I initially read those words in the book they made sense to me. But today I've lived the words. Thankfully, I'm still here to write this despite death's constant grip on my shoulder. I'm glad that Carly had the opportunity, and the foresight, to make the best of her life.