No matter the difficulty, I often find my thoughts wandering back to the unforgettable summer of 1964. As I sit in this sparsely populated diner, my recollections are remarkably vivid, as if I can sensate the gentle touch of the Florida sand beneath my feet. Gazing into my untouched cup of coffee, I make an earnest attempt to preserve every intricate facet of that summer before it dissipates like it frequently does.
My memories hold immense power, ready to explode and break into unfixable pieces. I explore the depths of my mind, uncovering untouched corners that have remained undisturbed for years. Suddenly, I am transported back to when I was seventeen. My thoughts magically transform my rough, white hair into flowing jet-black curls that reach far past my rib cage. Time rewinds the deep laugh lines on my face, giving my skin a fresh look. Now, I can vividly see myself with long sun-kissed legs, perfectly groomed nails, high cheekbones, and captivating emerald green eyes.
I have on a light pink two-piece bathing suit with delicate ruffles. It is my very first one that I acquired by saving up every penny and doing chores around the house before summer came. The trip to Pensacola Beach was always on our minds during our senior year, as my three friends and I playfully called it our initial experience of freedom while constantly griping about strict parents and never-ending school assignments.
Fresh out of high school, we walked by the shore, laughing carefree. It’s interesting how I can’t remember their names now, but his name is indelible. I frequently forget the year and my location, but I can vividly recall every aspect of the night I first fell in love. It occurred on a balmy July evening when my eyes first met his face.
Recollecting that unexplainable moment when our eyes met, I am still in awe. The memory of me and my friends sneaking out of our cheap motel, hand in hand, suppressing laughter, and bursting with enthusiasm upon reaching the invigorating waters of the Gulf of Mexico is so vivid. While we playfully splashed and fearlessly dove into the foamy waves, he and his friends approached us. Even now, I can vividly remember scrutinizing every detail of him and attentively observing his every move.
His well-defined cheekbones, chin, and the slight curve in his nose catch my attention on a good day. I also notice the small, light-colored freckles scattered upon his nose. But it’s his full lips that really stand out to me; they effortlessly form a sweet yet sarcastic smirk.
However, it’s his eyes that truly captivate me. When I close my own eyes, I imagine his eyes which encompass every color I know. They overwhelm me with their bright blues and greens and suffocate me with their shades of gray. This unfamiliar fascination enthralls me and sends shivers down my spine.
Despite being a complete stranger, it seemed as though I had known this person my whole life. Their eyes held a familiarity that was impossible to ignore. It was as if they were the embodiment of someone from my dreams. Their face captivated me entirely, drawing me in like a helpless piece of metal to an irresistible magnet. Resisting their allure felt futile; surrendering to their power became my only option. Not only did my body gravitate towards them, but so did my soul. In an instant, every part of me longed for their presence.
Completely stunned by his simple smile and sweet introduction, I struggled to find something intelligent to say. My thoughts became a jumbled mess of emotions, leaving me feeling extremely embarrassed. I silently prayed for mercy, aware that I must have appeared foolish. Soon enough, this attractive stranger would return to his friends, leaving me sweaty and nervous as I helplessly fell in love with him. Gathering my courage, I brushed off the sand and fear from my drenched body and managed a shy smile.
Just a simple smile and he was mine. The next seven days were a magical blur. Every available second that I had was spent wrapped up in his arms. We would lay out on the beach until sunrise, tangled in a mess of sandy sheets and towels, our fingers laced in an unbreakable grasp. He whispered to me all of his secrets and thoughts and wishes to leave the Florida coast that was his home. We pretended that I would never have to leave him, although my departure hung above our heads like an omnipresent storm cloud, impatiently waiting to burst.
During our last night together, we lay on the shoreline, expressing our love and silently shedding tears before falling into an uneasy sleep. We both wished to never wake up and separate. Many years have gone by since I last touched his skin or saw his smile, but not a day goes by that I don’t remember him. I had to go back home that summer, with a bittersweet memory of love. Eventually, I moved on and married a fantastic man who gave me four amazing children. I am incredibly fortunate, to say the least.
Despite receiving many gifts over the years, I can’t help but think about how different my life would be if I could return to the coast where my first love once existed. I often ponder whether our love would still possess the same intensity and passion or if it would diminish with time, just like my memories. Regardless of how ephemeral our love was, I will forever treasure the week we spent together and the quiet moments we shared. He will always remain a radiant star, a vivid memory in my mind. While memories may fade concerning various aspects of my life, including my family and even my identity, I will forever be drawn back to that summer in 1964.
