I fiddled with the tassel that dangled from the spine of my old journal. It was a lovely deep yellow and made me think of the sunflower fields next to me. I still couldn’t believe Wyatt had asked his sister to send me my box of memories. I had kept every note Elio had ever written me and the three journals that had carried me through most of my childhood. Some might think I should have tossed them away, not wanting to relive such pain and confusion, but for me it was not about the pain. It was about the good memories tucked between the bad times. The questions to my mother about life, friendship, and boys, or how much I loved Cara. I was so thankful to have saved all those memories of our friendship. Then there were my thoughts about when I first met Elio and how I felt so safe and free ar
