The first time I kissed her it was magic, real honest to God magic: starlight, and streetlight, and trees shaking their leftover rain down on us. Everyone on campus disappeared, and every car in the city stopped, and there wasn’t a sound except a little wind and the silver of her laugh.

There’s a wonderful little book I have called Rats Saw God. Everyone who was ever in high school should read it. It’s about relationships, and people, and love and being kids; one of the most resonant lines in it, for me, was “why ruin something so perfect by trying to make it last forever?”

The first time that question appears, it’s being asked of the protagonist; the second time, he’s asking it himself. I always thought I’d understand it if I had the chance. I think tonight I did.

Magic doesn’t last forever; it doesn’t last, period. I get that now. I’m glad I do. I’m glad I just had the only good breakup I’ve ever had, and that it wasn’t really a breakup at all, just an understanding.

I’m going to miss Emily a lot this summer, but that just means it’ll be even better when I see her again in the fall. And after all, why ruin something so perfect by trying to make it last forever?