“Reid, you can miss me now, the way I miss you. The way I think I’ll always miss you. But I learned a long time ago that you can miss something without wanting it back. Knowing that what you miss is just the memory. The version we preserve to protect the imprint of something, or someone, important.” Whatever hesitancy, if that’s what it was, is gone now and her tone strengthened with each word. “But memories aren’t always honest, ours clearly weren’t. They are filtered and viewed through whatever lens we need them to be. And you don’t make decisions on that. You can’t build a life on the
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