Dear Francesca,

My thoughts keep returning to last night's letter, in particular the mention of stories hidden, stories buried. I thought to myself that if you and I are as close as I believe us to be, Franney, that I should share them with you. I feel like I am keeping things hidden from you, and that makes me feel guilty. But I think that I have finally figured out why I let these stories go untold: they are part of the past.

I have been candid to you about things in the present, but I shy away from telling you some stories from my past. I have worked so hard to get over some of those experiences, fought with memories pushing their way to the surface. When I finally gave them air to breathe, they had less power over me.

Does that mean they are forgotten? Not at all. I still wonder to what extent these experiences have shaped me, made me who I am today. Part of me wants to blame any faults or flaws on negative experiences from the past, but that is wrong. It is also hard to admit that anything good may come out of them, but good has grown among the thorns. I am closer to Mumma, for example, because of some of the things I have endured. Our friendship too, Franney, might not have happened if I had not been so overcome with illness earlier in the year.

Francesca, I am grateful for our friendship, and I hope you did not feel slighted by last night's letter.

Yours,
Hannah Iona