Epilogue

                                    

                                          
*Present day* 
                          
I smiled to myself and closed the journal I was rereading. It was written in my young writing and it was insane to think how many memories such a small little book could hold. For that little journal had the beautiful story of Harry and I's love-story scrawled in my crooked writing. 
                          
I was now seventy-five years old and I knew I was definitely getting old. So I had thought, eventually Harry and I would be gone, but I wanted our story to live forever so everyone could experience what love really was like. I wanted my children to experience what it was like to love someone so deeply that even their flaws were something that you found beautiful. I wanted to show them the type of love that was sitting in a kitchen at 3 am and eating a midnight meal or eating wéed brownies together.
                          
That type of love that Harry and I had. 
                          
I watched my children, who all had families of their own. We had a grand family get-together at Oliver's house, in his backyard more precisely. There were my grandchildren running around, laughter and chatter filling the outside air as the adults conversed within one another. 
                          
And here I was, the loneliest bítch of all, sitting on the little patio swing by myself, reading the journal I had wrote about Harry and I. I had decided that today was the special day to give it to my kids and pass on the story to another generation. 
                          
"Grandma! Look!" Samar called me, pointing to the bubbles he had blown with his little wand as Tori smiled down at her son. 
                          
"Wow, so nice," I said with a smile as Tori approached me, the lively chatter still vibrant. 
                          
"Hey mom," she said softly before sitting beside me. 
                          
"Tori," I grinned at her. "By the way, you looking mad thick girl. That dress looks so good," I complimented my daughter as she smiled with a little blush on her face. 
                          
"You and your ways will never change, mother," she laughed lightly. 
                          
I looked down at the brown leather journal in my palm. In some messy writing, the cover of the journal sported the words 'Walmart Boy' over it in traditional black ink. 
                          
"I have something to give you, Tori," I said, looking at her as the slight breeze pushed back my greying hairs. 
                          
Her eyes, a mixture of her father's green and my brown, landed on my face before they dropped to the journal in my hands. 
                          
"This journal. It means a lot to me. I want you to read it when you have time. Don't rush it," I instructed in my soft voice. "And once you're done reading it, pass it on to Oliver and tell him the same thing." 
                          
She took the journal from my hands and inspected the tattered outside of it. "Walmart Boy? What is it about?" She asked in a curious tone as I felt a reminiscent smile on my face at the question. 
                          
"That's a surprise," I joked as she laughed and looked up at me. 
                          
"Alright, thanks mom," she gave me a side-hug. 
                          
"You're welcome, my homie," I said, leaning back on the swing as she scoffed. 
                          
"Homie. Good one," she said as I looked at her and wiggled my eyebrows. 
                          
"Ayyy," I said as Samar came over and childishly tugged on Tori's pants. 
                          
"Mom, I want some cupcakes," he whined, pointing a finger to the food display. 
                          
"Sorry mom," Tori apologized sheepishly as I nodded. 
                          
"Don't worry about it," I shrugged as she excused herself and left with her child to the food stall. Her husband and her started talking, bright smiles on both of their faces while their son helped himself to the food.