where the flowers grew | a chris sturniolo story

prologue

November came and went like a romance that was forgotten by time. I always admired how the leaves could fall so quickly to user in the winter season, but a small part of me always longed for those hot summer days. Summer was a time of year that I didn't have to worry about finding an excuse not to go home to confront everything she left behind when she moved to Nashville. Summer kept me in this constant state of motion, going from party to party, attending all the music festivals shew as able to get into and living at the office. Summer was safe. Christmas on the other hand kept me busy.

I loved my job as head photographer for an on-the-rise clothing brand, as it had always been my dream to work in photography. What I loved most about the job was that it kept me flying back and forth to Nashville and LA and far from my hometown, a place I had grown to detest in years following my adolescence.

Growing up I had always felt trapped by my hometown, always afraid that the small-town-mentality would hold me back from my dreams, so I left at the first opportunity. Now traveling back to spend Christmas with family, something I haven't done since I left nearly six years ago. I was anxious. I was determined to remain calm and endure the weekend with as much as I could muster. But stepping of f the plane, I could feel my grip on my emotions slipping away.

Driving down familiar streets and back roads in my Toyota rental while Christmas songs played on the radio, a wave of nostalgia overcame my forced patience and I was forced to relive heart-wrenching memories. Driving past my old high school neighbouring the church my aunts, uncles and cousins to attend every Sunday and I remember how Chris and I would always skip class to hang out in his 1980's medium blue mustang in the church parking lot. A smile crept on my face, I felt silly reminiscing on those days because I had always resented so much about my old life, yet to this day I cherished every memory of Chris.

So much of my life revolved around him back then that was hard for me not to see him in everything I drove past now. His long brown-haired curls and light blue eyes , the way he always smelled like mint and rain weather, the way he could always make me laugh with stupid jokes and bad puns. He was my everything, my first real love. Sure I had been young and naive when we were together, but nothing could change the fact that he would always be the first boy I had ever given my heart too.

Finally driving unto the street of my parent's small one-story home, I found myself excited to spend time with my family. Surprisingly welcome change from spending the holidays alone. Pulling into my childhood home, a panic rose in when I saw the familiar blue mustang sitting in the drive away. Sitting alone in the car, paralysed out of the shock, I tried to formulate a strategy to avoid him.

Before I knew it, my parents were coming out to greet me. I embraced my parents, each with a quick hug, then stayed stood before them in painful silence, struggling to come up with something to say. I searched for any excuse that would be good enough to make up for all the time I had remained distant. Right as I I was about say something, I spotted him out fo the corner of my eye.

There, stranding and smiling at me in his favorite Christmas sweater was Chris. No longer a scrawny teenage, he seemed everything I could never pictured him being, Now he was taller, built, with some five o'clock shadow along the lower half of his face. "You remember Chris, sweetheart? He's been helping out with some renovations around the house," mom spoke softly. All four of us stood in an awkward circle in the driveway under the snowfall. Like gust of wind, it all came back to me.

All the friendship, loyalty, love, sometimes hate, but mostly love. All the dreams for the future I pictured him in and all the regret I felt leaving him behind. After all the pain I caused him, and all I could manage to say was "Hey," with a soft smile that I hoped he could read as an apology.

"Hey, it's nice to see you again." When he speaks, it brings back again. My heart melts under his words, finding comfort in knowing he's still around. "How's that big apple been trying you?" He leans against my car, my parents going back inside to leave us to catch up.

I smile, leaning my hip against my car. "That's New York City, Chris. I live in Nashville." I cross my arms, trying to stay reserved, but I find myself feeling more and more comfortable as the conversation progresses. "But it's nice I guess. It can feel pretty lonely at times."

"Oh, yea. You're doing much better than me, I can't even imagine leaving this town. Everything's so familiar."

"You could always come visit me. Send some familiarity into the big city. It would be nice to see you more often." I admit, kicking myself me mentally for saying it. "I mean, if you want too."

"I'll have to come out there. To see you it'd be worth it." He smiles softly. His gaze softens as he turns back to me, standing from my car. "You know, i've missed you." He reaches his arm out, pulling me to his side, wrapping his arm other arm around me.

I hesitate at first before allowing myself to melt into his hug, wrapping my arms around his torso. "Yea? I've missed you too." I smile into the hug, his arms tightening around my body.

We stay in the hug for what feels like forever. Six years of being apart and I feel like the same young, naive girl when he holds me. The feeling I get when we're alone together.

Home.