And my Ballentine-stained heart surges as it remembers every waking moment of our youth spent tangled up with each other, and a million blurry nights of tears and bad words and big feelings and messy kisses and grabby hands and choices we should have never made but I’m so glad we did. I love that tree. I love that door that he could never lock. I love that piece of sandstone that is so much more than a piece of sandstone.
