As a happily single thirtysomething, I hadn’t realized that my desire for love—that want—was absent until I felt it again, deeply and profoundly. When Adrienne, our heroine, discovers and reads love letters lost long ago, she thinks: “What’s it like to get a letter like this? Have someone hold you in such adoration that he’d die a thousand deaths to spend a day with you?”
I do not know. But I want to. Heather Burch’s words moved me so much, I’ll carry them always: “Tell me you love me and remind me of home.”
Home. That’s what the best love feels like: the place you belong, the place you return to, the place you’d rather be no matter where you are. In One Lavender Ribbon, home is all those things and a refuge for a World War II hero who writes often of his. But his letters, hidden in an attic and forgotten, are about much more than love and home. They reminded me—just as they do Adrienne and Will—how to live.
I hope you, too, are reminded.
- JoVon Sotak, Editor