The summer air is fading now. The bright sun is dimming, and the warm temperature took its things and moved far away. Summertime is slowly slipping away, and as I sit here on this chilly evening, I think of him and of another summer, years ago.

I was 17, old enough to make my own decisions, but still too young to know if they were the right ones. It was the summer after my senior year, and I had a full ride to LSU waiting for me. I was in Georgia for the summer, babysitting our family friend’s daughter, wishing I could be somewhere, anywhere else.

I didn’t have high hopes for the summer until the day I met him. He bumped into me at the store while I was buying groceries for the week. “Are you the girl that’s babysitting Katie?” he asked me. “Yeah, I’m Jessica,” I said. He replied, “I work for Katie’s dad down at the hardware store. He mentioned that a girl was going to be staying at the house and watching her while they were on their trip. It’s nice to meet you, Jessica, I’m Dean Calloway.”

From that day on, we talked more and more. I’m not sure when I fell in love with him, but I did. We were together every day, and we went to church together every Sunday. We were the very definition of summer love, and I dreaded what I knew was inevitable.

The summer gradually came to a close, just as it is doing now. Dean was everything I’d ever wanted and more, and I couldn’t make a decision. Going back home to LSU was the choice everyone else wanted, but what about what I wanted?

As I watch the wind whistle through the trees, I wonder what he’s doing now. Not a day goes by that I don’t ask myself if the choice I made to leave him was the right one.