The Memory Book(74)

To the fine folks who reside in the very real, very green Upper Valley, thank you for letting me wander through and romanticize. Thanks, Charlie—yeah, bud.

Mandy, Emma—you, too, plus everything. For being there at the best and worst. Minnesota, my sweet, unexpected home. Anthony, Hannah, Ian, Luke, Patrick, Ross, Sally—I’d lasso the moon for you, you know that. Sometimes I wish we could all live in connected caves and gather berries for food and stay up all night telling stories and jokes.

To anyone who has had to suffer through a terminal disease like Niemann-Pick (or anyone who is related to someone who has), thank you for the liberty to live in your shoes for a few hundred pages. Forgive me for inconsistencies and exaggerations. If the way I told Sammie’s story doesn’t feel right, write to me. Or better yet, write it the way you would like to see it.

Grandma Sally and Grandpa Buck, Grandma Hazel and Grandpa Bill, and Great-Aunt Margaret, for telling the stories that matter. Lastly and never leastly, Mom, Dad, Wyatt, Dylan, Puppy, and Lucy. Thanks for letting me go off to build my little worlds, and for being there when I return.