The Book of Lost and Found

by Lucy Foley

Only when it was too late, only through the loss of her, was I able to understand how much I had loved her.

This is what it is to be young: this is what people mean when they talk about the freedom and folly of youth, the reckless glamour of it. It is the purest sort of intoxication, this flying over rough ground so that the breath is knocked out of you, whizzing through the world with such power and grace and danger.