In the summer of 2011, I met the love of my life. The few people that I've spoken to about this experience think me mad. They tell me that I was only ten, that the love I held for this particular person was far too unconventional to even exist. But I know that Sam is, and will forever be my love.

2011 was a very hard year for me, because my sister who I loved so dearly had just moved away to Sweden, which meant that I would only see her during the summer. I counted down the days until school finally let out and I could hop on that plane ride to visit her, and when that day finally came, I simply could not stop smiling. After the long eight hour flight, I practically trampled all of the passengers so I could emerge from the plane. When I got off the flight, my eyes instantly darted towards my sister. I remember running to her, my arms open, then stopping suddenly. I will never, ever forget the sight, the magical feeling that coursed through me as I laid my eyes on Sam. I remember her brown eyes looking at me so warmly, her hands clasped together as they hung by her stomach. I can recall so clearly the way she giggled at my gawking.

Thankfully, my sister mistook my fascination with her gorgeous friend as shyness and a display of my social anxiety, and introduced me to her, telling me that she was a good friend of hers and her roommate, and that I didn't need to be afraid of her. Sam then shook my hand, her posture straight as she did so, not bending down and acting like I was three feet shorter than her, as adults usually did. I remember her saying, in her sweet, melodic voice, 'How're you doing, lovely?' in her thick British accent. And in that moment as I looked up into her beautiful chocolate brown eyes, I swore that I was in love.

The whole summer that I was there, I spent most of my time with Sam, my sister busy with her friends and her work. Almost every morning Sam would walk with me to the beach, a little ways away from the apartment and we'd talk for hours on end about music and literature and nearly everything. Very few times in my life have I ever truly felt heard, growing up being one of four children in a household full of over-achievers, with me always looked at as a disappointment and treated like what I had to say didn't matter. But every time I spoke with Sam, I felt like she actually cared about what I had to say. Sometimes she would stop me as I spoke and tell me to slow down, that she wasn't going anywhere and that I had all the time in the world to tell her what I needed to and she'd never stop listening. We did this the entire summer and as I boarded the plane to return to New York, I found myself missing Sam more than I did my own sister.

The next summer I returned to Sweden and was greeted once again by both Sam and my sister at the airport. That summer Sam and I spent nearly every day together again, and I couldn't have asked for anything more than sitting on the beach with her and talking all day. But that summer, Sam and I began to grow closer and often in the early evening when we were walking on the beach and had run out of things to say, she'd take my hand in hers and run her thumb over my knuckles. The first time she did it, I thought for sure that I had been dreaming as I looked up and saw her smiling heart-shaped face, her short amber hair fixed back by a thin brown headband, her eyelashes so gracefully and curling upwards. I could've sworn that she was an angel.

Our long talks and hand-holding continued all summer and went on for two more summers after that. Then, four years after my first time meeting and falling in love with Sam, I decided that I was finally going to tell her that I loved her, only to discover as soon as I got off of the plane that someone had beaten me to it. My eyes were instantly drawn to a large engagement ring on her left hand and I felt a sharp pain in my chest, the extent of it so great that it nearly knocked me over, as I literally felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces that could never be repaired.

The summer went a little differently than the previous ones, Sam having moved out, only coming to visit me once a week, every Friday, the day that took the longest to reach, yet the quickest to pass. Our friendship still remained strong and I was glad that her engagement hadn't changed her, that she was still Sam, my Sam. It was the last day of the summer when I decided to finally tell her. We were sitting at the edge of the pier, holding hands and staring up at the moon together when I told her that I loved her. A rush of tears nearly pushed all of the air from my lungs as I finished whispering the four words that I had only ever uttered in my dreams until that point, 'I love you, Sam.' She cried with me and held me in her arms, the sound of her soft sobs only causing me to regret telling her, her gentle gasps sending little daggers of pain through my heart. After a few minutes we both stopped crying and Sam explained to me that although she loved me, she loved me in a different way. And somehow that was enough for me, to know that someone as incredible as her cared about me.
       

Sam's wedding day was both one of the happiest and the saddest days of my life. She chose me to be one of her bridesmaids, and although I couldn't physically be at her wedding, she called me at the reception and told me all about the beautiful ceremony. That day Sam had promised herself to another, and even so, I could not have been happier. The love of my life was happy, and her happiness is more important to me than anything.

How be it I will always love Sam, I have faith that one day I will love again, but it will never be the way that I loved her.