Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Okay, roommate, I have an idea,” Whitney said one day, walking in with a basket full of random items. There were markers and glitter and stacks of magazines along with poster boards.
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s all that for?”
“We’re going to figure out your life, one thing at a time, and make a board for it.”
I laughed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I ended up tearing the last vision board I made into pieces.”
“Lucky for you, this isn’t a vision board. It’s a try board. We’ll try a million different things each weekend and see what sticks. Like rock climbing, painting, or recording a podcast. We’re going to make a list of things to do.”
I smiled at my friend, amazed by how outstanding she’d been throughout the toughest semester of my life. She was the true definition of a ride-or-die friend. No matter the mistakes I’d made, Whitney was always in my corner. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Whit. I don’t deserve you.”
She smirked and shrugged. “You’re right. You don’t. But most people don’t deserve me. I’m remarkable. Now, come on. Let’s make this damn list.”
As the weeks wore on and spring awakened through the budding tree branches, I still missed Milo every day. Nothing grew easier about that fact, either. While everything was beginning to feel normal again, life didn’t feel whole. It felt as if a piece of me was missing, and there was no way for me to get it back any time soon.
I tried to keep busy, and my try list with Whitney made that easier. I’d learned a few different things about myself along the way, too. I tried a spin class and signed up for painting lessons. I wasn’t a painter, but still, I tried. I tested different types of coffee. I fell deeply in hate with matcha. I cried sometimes, but I found many reasons to laugh, too.
Getting to know myself felt like the wildest journey I was partaking in, but it also felt right. It was as if I were supposed to meet myself at that very special moment in time.
When May came around, I was doing a little better. That was until Mother’s Day, the most challenging day of the year for me. I kept busy, trying not to overthink it. Dad sent me a message telling me he loved me, and that was nice to see. He was making me dinner that night to celebrate Mom, which would be great. I just wished I’d received a text message from Mom, too.
Whitney: You need to get back to the dorm room, stat.
Starlet: Why?
Whitney: Bring your ass here now.
Starlet: I have a class in thirty minutes.
Whitney: Now, Starlet!
I grumbled and walked across campus back to the dorm room. I usually never went back to the dorm during the day because I had classes back-to-back and walking to the dorm was out of my way. As I took the elevator up to our floor, I got another text from Whitney telling me to knock before entering the room, which was odd. Then again, Whitney was strange, so it was on par.
I knocked on our door, and she opened it just enough to shimmy her body out of the room. She shut the door behind her and smiled at me.
“Hi,” she breathed out.
“Uh, what’s going on?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“What?”
Her eyes glassed over as she shook her head. “I was wrong about him. I was so worried about you getting hurt that I missed the most important part. I know I normally hate men but—and believe me, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but maybe it’s not all men. Maybe some are decent. Maybe some are good, even.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Whit. What the hell are you talking about?”
She took a deep inhalation and breathed it out. “You have a present.”
“What?”
“A present. You have a present. In the room.”
“You got me a present?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Not me. But dammit, it made me tear up. Are you ready?”
“You’re freaking me out. Move.”
She smiled and stepped to the side of the hallway. I placed my hand on the handle and twisted it, opening the door. My eyes instantly teared up as I saw the item in front of me—a pink bicycle with yellow daisies painted on, purple handlebars, and a white wicker basket. A matching helmet was there, too, and inside the basket was a bouquet of peonies and a card.
Milo.
I hurried over and opened the card to read the words.
My world,
I know today’s a hard day for you, so I thought I’d give you something to make it a little less difficult. I built it with a new buddy of mine. It’s not as perfect as your mom’s, but I hope you like it.
I hope you take a ride today and feel your mom in the wind.