The last time I saw my first love was on my 17th birthday—thirty years later, a woman who looked exactly like her stepped into my yard

still alive,” Ashley said. “He lives about two hours from here. Mom visited him every year.”

We drove out on a Thursday morning.

Thomas was sixty-something now, white-haired, moving carefully through a small house with a garden that had clearly seen better years. When he saw Ashley, something in his face went soft and sad at once.

When he saw me, he went continue reading …