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I eyed Reece from the corner of my eyes. His eyes were on the road as he gripped onto the steering wheel, patiently waiting for me to get situated in the seat. I buckled my seatbelt and straightened my legs comfortably. Sometimes I hated the long legs I received.

"I told my mom I'm taking you for a ride to one of my friend's beach house, because he invited us. And that'd we'd be staying for a day or two if we need to," he said.

"Okay." I nodded. I'm surprised she didn't question why he was taking me there or what we were doing. When Reece and I started to visit each other less, I never knew what his mom's thoughts on it were. Over the past few years, I'd still see her outside from time to time, checking her mail, or driving to work, taking care of whatever else she does. She'd say hi and ask me how I was sometimes, but that was it.

"Why are you helping me?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

"Well . . . I'd like to think that's what friends are for." Reece shrugged and inserted his key in the ignition.

So, we're friends again? I didn't think he was capable of using that phrase so freely in my presence ever again. I thought our friendship was gone.

"Oh." I sat back in my seat, silencing myself.

I'd like to think that's what friends are for. Not best friends, but friends. Meaning we aren't close, but he still cares enough to help me. At least that's how I deciphered it.

"What's that?" He peered down at my lap, furrowing his eyebrows at the small blue journal.

"It's my mom's journal. When she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, she started writing everything in here so she wouldn't forget."

"Did you look inside? Maybe there's something in there that might tell you where she went," he suggested. I ran my fingers across the journal, caressing the cover. I've never opened her journal before. She always kept it in her bottom drawer, safe and sound, until the next day, where she decided to add a piece of her life to the next page.

"It's worth a try." I took a deep breath, preparing myself to open the book. My fingers began to tremble, and I gripped the edge of the journal tightly. When I finally managed to get ahold of myself, I flipped open the book, gazing across the very first page.

May 4th,

My name is Diana Cohen, and this is my very first journal entry. Here's some things you should know. I stand at a height of 5'6. I am a weight of 120 lbs. My birthday is June 1st. Speaking of which, I will be turning 54 in a few weeks. And I have a daughter by the name of Hope, who is a senior in high school. Hope gets her height from her daddy. Seriously, she's standing at 5'9. She graduates in June, which is great. I could not be any prouder of her, even though there's a possibility she will leave me. But, that's okay. We live in a big, beautiful neighborhood near the boardwalk and the beach-it's very peaceful around here. Onto the more depressing stuff . . . today, I found out I have been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I don't know what's going to happen . . . or when it's going to kick in, but I am writing this, so I don't forget. I don't want to forget my family, or what I do, or who I am. And if you ever do forget who you are Diana, look back at this first page, and so on . . . you'll learn a lot about your life.

"Hope?" Reece softened his voice and I could hear the worry dripping from his tone.

"Sorry, I'm still a bit unstable right now." I laughed at myself, wiping the tears from under my eyes.

"Let's go then," he mumbled. I closed the journal and sunk into my seat, staring out the window as Reece began driving. Even the soothing tone of my favorite music blaring from the radio couldn't help my emotions. If anything, it made me sadder than I already am.

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