I was definitely not seventeen. My summer spanned the
course of several years. But the memories, those years…
that lifetime. They endure.
I still dream and…in dreaming…remember those lovely,
bittersweet memories that I keep locked away in the
darkest recesses of my soul. Now, as an older woman, I
look back at the futility of hanging on in spite of all I
knew and all the innocence I sold cheaply, despite my
beliefs…and yet, beyond the shadow of a doubt, I know
this:
I would do it all over again.
For in following the path I did, I ended up where I am now
and the memories, the heartbreak, the regrets, they just
make me richer and more able to love and forgive and
accept than I ever was before. Love…charity…they are
truly one and the same. And they really do beareth all
things for they have no other choice. Even when one walks
away in despair, never again to turn back, the love
endures…forever, maybe not in the same form, because in
walking away it is burned at the seams and charred into a
new form, but enduring nonetheless.

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Of Strawberry Wine and Other Things…

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