My Summer Romance

The Perfect Summer Affair

'He was the one. And I let him go.'

By Anonymous

In the summer of 1984, my parents sent me to Hawaii for a graduation present. Brimming with eager enthusiasm, I fell for a beautiful surfer named Michael. He was tall, tan, blonde, blue-eyed and handsome. He whisked me around Waikiki and showed me the sights. We held hands down Kalakaua Boulevard, held each other in the surf at Lanikai Beach, and played tennis on the Fourth of July.

Twenty-one years later, after a whirlwind life that included living in New York, Boston, and Paris, I found myself back in Oahu. I was sipping an exotic drink when the band started to play "At Last." The tears rushed down my face as the long buried memories flooded back. He was the one, my heart said. And I let him go.

'At Last,' Etta James

I don't have his last name, I only vaguely remember that he returned to Santa Cruz to study medicine. My mind started reeling--if I could somehow find this needle in a haystack, we certainly wouldn't look as we did over two decades ago. Would it be the same?

Perhaps it was better just left as it was--the memory of a perfect summer affair. I can always close my eyes and find my heart in the blue waters of Oahu.

Dedicated to Michael

Posted at Love Stories of Hawaii