summersong

I told her I'd probably never see her again, and as far as I knew it was true. She said she thought we still might, and I let her think that, but we were going different ways. It wasn't summer anymore, and it would be winter soon, and we'd both be snowed in our chilly cities. I loved her so long as the summer lasted, and she probably loved me, and that's all there was to it. Summer was gone, and we sat outside on a park bench and held hands and enjoyed one of its last days. The next day we parted ways and never expected to see each other again.

That was four years ago. Summer has come and gone several times and left only winter behind, with its snow and its bitter cold. There were other summer romances and I had nearly forgotten that one late summer evening where we knew we'd never see each other again. But tonight as I was in New York on business, sitting on a park bench and enjoying a sandwich I'd bought at a 7-Eleven I saw a girl who looked familiar. She was wearing glasses and her hair was short, and her arms were tattooed now, but as soon as she said my name I knew her.

We embraced. I finished my sandwich and we talked for a while. I thought she was in Chicago still; she thought I was still in Boston. After a while of talking there was silence, where we simply sat like we did years before. Neither of us mentioned who had been there in the summers since we'd seen each other, but both of us knew. It didn't really matter. Summers really do last forever. She kissed me on the cheek and we half-heartedly promised to stay in touch. Maybe we even will.