“Nothing stayed—or so I had always thought. Nothing stayed and nothing lingered.
But I was wrong.
Because there was an apartment in the Monroe on the Upper East Side that was full of magic, and it taught me how to say goodbye.
And it was no longer mine.
That didn't matter though, because I carried all of the good moments with me, the walls and the furniture—the claw-foot tub and the robin's-egg blue chair—and the way my aunt danced me around the living room, so no matter where I was, I would always be home.
Because the things that mattered most never really left.
The love stays.
The love always stays, and so do we.”