Jadyn Right’s Reviews > One Italian Summer > Status Update

I fold the note in my hand, now dotted with water, and tuck it back inside its envelope. A whole memory, I think. And then the archway is upon us. I bring the tin to my lips. I kiss the top of it. And then as we move through, shadowed by rock, I empty it out the side of the boat. I watch as the dust descends into the water, scattered on the breeze. She is everywhere, I think. She is all around us.

😭

How could she do this to me? How could she tell me year over year that it was okay, that I didn’t need to know, that I didn’t need to have all the answers, because I had her? How could she make herself so indispensable, so much a part of my life, my very heart—so woven into the fabric of who I am—only to leave? Didn’t she know? Didn’t she know that one day I’d be left without her?

🥹🥹

soooooo thankful for closed door romances because this book DID NOT need graphic smut

grazie x a million

When I was young, just a baby, really, my mother used to sing to me every night. I’d always request the song, the one that goes: My mommy comes back, she always comes back, she always comes back to get me. My mommy comes back, she always comes back, she never will forget me. It was her way of saying she’d always be there; she’d never leave.

🥺

I must have been alone growing up—I was an only child, after all—but I never remember it. My mother was always there. She was my mother and my best friend and my sibling, all at once.

this book is slowly breaking me

I miss her warmth and her guidance and the sound of her voice. I miss her telling me it was really all going to be okay and believing it, because she was at the wheel. I miss her hugs and her laughter and her lipstick, Clinique Black Honey. I miss the way she could plan a party in under an hour. I miss having the answers, because I had her.

❤️‍🩹😞

For thirty years I have been tied to the best person alive, the best mother, the best friend, the best wife. The best one was mine, and now she's gone. The string that tethered us has been snipped, and I am overcome with how little I have left, how second-best every single other thing is.

i'm already in a puddle