Who's actually reading this? Just the people I suspect, or...?

Day 24: The person that gave you your favorite memory.

Dear the person that gave me my favorite memory,

Of all the letters, I think I find this one most impossible to write. But I will attempt to do so anyway. I've been thinking about this one for weeks, trying to pin down one memory that is it, but I can't. It kinda breaks down into categories. A lot (or most) or them belong to either you or you, but of course, you'd know that. I remind you of them all the time. So. I'll just go with the ones that stand out, and write it to no one and everyone.

There was that time after I got my tonsils out and you gave me that clear plastic airplane that you could see the gears moving in when you moved it. That's one of my earliest ones. The magic forest, that one is a beautiful, golden sliver in my mind.
There's a that time (or a series of them) at the middle school and what sticks out is what different places in our lives we were at in all of them, but how they're always the same.
There's inflatable giraffes and fresh grapes (and jelly) and bath tubs and biscuits and gravy.
There's standing on the top of the swing set and screaming for ice cream and sitting in the top of a tree and platforms of peril.
There's waking up in pale sunlight and being with you and looking out as the sun rose over the mountains and everything else. And burritos, and Dairy Queen and walking the pier, an eating junk food and hugging close on the tight bed, and the arches in the park that glowed orange at night and thinking that it was finally here, and that it all stretched out before us.
There's long sleeve t-shirts and dirt and warm apples and hay and elephant ears and cider slushies.
There's bathroom dances and busted teeth.
There's waking up in the hot, sticky summer sunshine after staying up til 4 talking about mistaken stances on love and listening to the same songs over and over.
There's that time by the garage door over fall break before a football game and awkward exchanges and awkward dad and you'll never, never let me forget it. That's ok, because I'd never want to. This one might be my favorite. It really might. Or the apple one.
There's a long, dark night in June and feeling young and alive and free and a long movie that we loved that kept playing and never feeling closer to anyone.
There's a cold spring on the beach and serious talks and a shared jacket.
There's bounding into my room as the sun came up and jumping on my bed. My room all pale yellow. And telling me that you couldn't let your best friend feel like nothing.

Mmmm, there are a lot. I hope you know which ones are yours. And thanks. These are the things I write about, and the things that I look back and and feel that warm, happy glow. And, you know, the things that make me, me.

Love,
Lauren.