That last year of middle school started with a sharp clanging of the brass alarm bells, which had been my constant chaperones during the previous 2 years. But this time that familiar ring was a little bit duller and there was a pervasive bittersweet undertone that seemed to signify the beginning of an end of an era.

To everyone else’s ears, that sound indicated the end of a school day, but to me those bells told a different story. It was a tale of outward growth and the methodic end of my period as a child. I had just turned 13; I was now a teenager.

Soo-Min was gone but we still kept in touch. It was hard on both of us since we were more than 200 miles apart. The hardest part about it all was how I felt about this girl. Granted, we were barely into our teen years and had very little understanding about what love was all about, but we just knew how we felt for each other. I had only known her a little over a year, but there was such a strong emotional connection that I had never known before.

Our exchanges became less frequent as time rolled along. The schedules that bound our hands were increasing the gap that we knew was already there. We were both growing in many different ways and there was nothing we could do to change that fact. We just had to accept and understand that this was how life was meant to be.

We talked and wrote whenever we could, but it seemed strained. Neither of us had the financial means to sustain a relationship and we both knew it. I remember the gifts that I would get in the mail, gifts that she made, along with pictures whenever she took new ones, as if she was afraid that I’d forget her face.

I knew in my heart of hearts that I’d never be able to forget her and you know what?

I never have.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Even though our time together was short, it was well spent. I shall always remember her because she was the first one to open my heart up to the real possibilities of real love. Looking back, I’m not sure if I was in love with her or not, but it sure felt like it. I loved her very much. And that’s what I’ll always believe.

There is no regret in my heart for falling as hard as I did for this girl. In fact, I feel honored and special that I was able to experience something like that, albeit for a finite amount of time. After she left, she took a piece of me with her that could never be replaced, but in its stead, she left behind a better [little]man and I thank her for that. Though it was an experience that was full of ups and downs, I would do it all over again, if I could.

Thank you Soo-Min for taking the time to sit with me on that truculent roller-coaster ride. Thanks for simply being there, thus helping me understand and mature in ways that I wouldn’t have for years to come. (not that I’m even remotely mature at this point in time) I’m not sure where I’d be right now without your influence. I’ll always love you and for all that you did for me.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Before I knew it, I could feel wet droplets silently cascading from those iridescent wells that I had grown to love. She started crying as the sadness finally consumed her and there was nothing I could do to stop the tears from rolling down her beautiful face. We had tried to fight these melancholy feelings for some time now, and they finally won. She wept for over an hour and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt horrid as I held her close, trying desperately to reassure and comfort her.

We sat there on the couch huddled together in the early morning sunshine that peeked through the bay window. She had stopped crying by then, her legs laying on top of mine, with her head against my chest and arms wrapped around my neck. I held her, arms wrapped around her lithe waist, never wishing to let her go, but knew that it was time.

With one last thorough check of the house, her family filed outside and readied the car for travel. We stood there, quiet and anxious. She turned toward me and started to sniffle again. Gathering her up in my arms, I hugged her tight, as if my physical strength could somehow carry her emotional burden for the rest of eternity.

“I’ll never say good-bye. This is simply a ’see you later’, ok? We’ll talk and write each other letters. Things will be ok, I promise.”

She looked up at me and nodded silently, tears streaming down her face once more. Grabbing a handkerchief out of my pocket, I dabbed her eyes and slowly wiped up the tears glistening on her cheeks. I went to put the handkerchief back into my pocket, but she stopped me by holding my hand in hers.

“May I keep it, please? I have lots of things of our time together, but I’d like to keep something from our last day together. And here, keep this to remember me too.”

She let go of me and unhooked a thin silver necklace from around her neck and slipped it around my own. Hanging from the thin silver chain was a small silver heart. It was the same necklace that I saw around her neck the very first time I laid eyes on her. She stepped back and tilted her head to critique how it looked. She giggled and shook her head.

“No, that doesn’t look like you at all.”

I stuck out my tongue at her and smirked.

“Yeah, I suppose it doesn’t. You were always the much prettier one.”

I walked her to the car, opened her door and helped her get seated. I checked to see if her arm and leg were in the way, then closed the door. I bid her parents and sister farewell and stepped back out of the car’s path. It started up and the gears engaged, slowly rolling the car back out of the driveway. Turning left, the car seemed to glide down the street; from this life and into the next.

Before she could get out of earshot, she looked out of the window back at me, waving and shouted, “I’ll call you! I promise I will!” I smiled, shouting back, “And I’ll call you too!” I waved to the retreating car that was slowly putting more and more distance between my heart and my other half.

A light early-fall breeze blew through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine and a wistful longing through my heart. A single tear slid out of the corner of my right eye and rolled down the contours of my cheek. Sniffling loudly and wiping it away, I turned and walked slowly home; all the while lightly tugging at the chain around my neck.

For some reason, I had a sinking feeling that this chapter of my life was effectively over.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Her eyes pleaded with me to stay for just a bit longer. I turned to gaze into her face and saw the beginnings of tears threatening to break through the dams holding them back, and spill from those liquid pools filled with sorrow. In all the time we had been together, I still couldn’t refuse any request she made with those eyes.

“Alright, I’ll stay for just a little while longer, Sinky.”

It was a private joke between the two of us. It was a nickname that I had given her when she first started learning how to swim; a slight variation on “Pinky*” which she called me from time to time. During the first week of lessons, she sank like a rock every single time. She just couldn’t figure out how to consistently float.

A small smile cracked through her sad visage and she punched me in the arm. “I don’t sink anymore”, she declared. “Yes, I know,” and I kissed her forehead. We sat up all night talking about our plans and what we would try to keep in touch. We were kids and we thought that anything was possible. I sat there, holding and talking to her for most of the night, till she fell asleep. For the next few hours, I simply watched the rise and fall of her steady breathing, no stress or sadness creased her face any longer. She looked beautiful.

When morning arrived, I woke up and looked around. I was still half-sitting there, on the couch with her nestled in my arms. I had fallen asleep sometime during the night while still holding her, so I never left her side. It was what she wanted. Being careful not to disturb her, I tried to stretch my arm, since it had fallen asleep. My movement must have not gone unnoticed cause I heard her murmur something in her sleep. I stopped and leaned back to simply enjoy the comforting feeling that I wished would never leave.

Slowly the house awoke and I gently shook her awake. I didn’t want to wake such an angelic face, but I didn’t have much choice.

“I don’t wanna wake up. Pwwease can I sleep a lil bit more?,” she whined.

“You sleep too much, hun. So much that my arm and leg are asleep too. You’re contagious,” I chided playfully.

“But you’re not asleep. Why?”

“I don’t know. I’ve slept enough already. I’d rather be awake, knowing you are here with me.”

She looked up at my face and sighed; settling back down into my arms, squeezing my body tighter as she did so. “I don’t wanna go…”

“I know, I know, sweetie…neither do I.”

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

*Pinky. It was the nickname she gave me due to the fact that I always told her not to mess with me because I had a pinky and I wasn’t afraid to use it.

It had to be one of the most difficult summers of my young life. There we were, just having finished the 7th grade and we knew that in just a short amount of time, she’d be moving elsewhere. After what we believed to be an eternity of learning and growing as a couple, we would be torn asunder due to circumstances beyond our control. It was not the way we wanted to start our summer.

She was going to be moving during the last month of summer, before school resumed in the fall. Knowing that, we spent as much as we could with each other. It was a fight that we knew we couldn’t win, but we tried our best, seeing if our efforts would somehow extend the time we had with each other. It was a joyous time, but deep in our hearts we knew that day would eventually come.

The warm days wrapped us in a comforting blanket of togetherness, as we watched the clouds float lazily by. During that time, we watched movies, hung out at the park and spent time together only the way couples could. She often came to my waterpolo games to watch me play. It was a summer filled with tender moments, as well as many moments of levity.

I remember teaching her how to swim and windsurf, since she didn’t know how to do either. My patience and understanding was sorely tested while I taught her to swim, but it was well worth the trouble. It would be something that she would always carry with her; a little something that would remind her of me. Plus, she wouldn’t drown if she ever ended up falling into a deep body of water. It took a month of half-drowning, water-swallowing and spluttering expressions before she could swim. It was probably the most memorable time I had with her that summer.

On her last day, we had dinner and went back to the house to rest up and pack the very last of their things. She and I spent most of the night talking and laughing, keeping the sadness at bay. As the clock struck two, I figured that it was time to go. I got up and gathered my things, when I felt her hand on my arm.

“Please. Please, don’t go…”

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

We were both extremely young. This situation was new to the both of us and there were many awkward and confusing moments during that time. After all, this was our first relationship. There was no handbook or manual that outlined the steps to take, nor did it warn us about the bumps and scratches that we would encounter along the way. Over that first year, we learned.

That year opened my eyes wide to the wonders, complexities and sheer mental stress that girls and guys put each other through. Through personality clashes, differing thoughts and disagreements, we persevered. It was a learning process that would take us through the trials of fire and brimstone. At least that’s what I thought at that age.

As 12 year olds, I know now that we were never meant to last. There was such a steep learning curve that one could not possibly understand or cope at such a young age. Our breadth of knowledge only extended so far. Only time and experience would teach us the follies of our mistakes. It was then that we would be able to grow and gain a greater depth of understanding.

It was a long year filled with ups and downs and many compromises. Many moments of joy and an even number of frustrations as well. Why couldn’t she understand what I was trying to say? Why couldn’t I do what she wanted me to do? There were many times where I thought that girls were put on this earth to drive guys mad. I know that I learned more about myself that year than all of the previous years combined. Girls will do that to you. They’ll drive you to the brink of insanity and somehow bring you back.

Toward the end of the year, our arguments slowly subsided and our relationship improved. We had done the impossible. Our relationship had lasted almost the entirety of the school year. That was totally unheard of and even more so, envied. Somehow, our unstable and often confusing relationship gave others hope, when in reality we knew the real truth. We were simply 2 crazy little kids who cared about each other far too much.

That’s why it was something of a shock when she found out that she had to move away.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

After what seemed like an uncomfortable hour of silence, I stammered out an incoherent phrase that went something like, “So when you going home?”. That has got to be one of the slickest and most charming phrases ever to pass through these honeyed lips of mine. She, being the more sane one, said something along the lines of, “Well, I was going to walk home in a bit, what about you?”

If my head was screwed on straight, just like a bright and shiny new light-bulb, I would have understood that what she said left the door wide open for a myriad of responses. But being the listless dud that I am, I replied with something much less suave.

“Oh, ok. I’m walking too.”

*long pause*

“Oh, hey, can I walk you home?”

After my beautiful follow-up question, she tilted her head to one side, smiled her sweet smile and agreed. Grabbing our things, we headed out from school. Not much was said as we walked along.

Should I hold her hand? Should I walk closer to her? What should I do? These thoughts clouded my mind as I continued to plod along beside her as I became more uncomfortable with each minute that passed by. The resulting nervous energy that was bottled up inside of me came out in the form of hopping from curb to street and back again. I couldn’t seem to walk next to her.

Screwing up my courage to break this awkward silence, I did what I always did in situations like these. She became the butt of my jokes. I began to poke and prod her verbally. This was what our relationship had grown to be. My “game” hadn’t matured nor had I the experience to understand what to do next.

Pretending to feel hurt and pout, she asked, “Can you just be normal and be nice to me for once?”

“I am very nice. You’re just unlucky whenever you’re around me.”

“Okay, fine. But can you be nice to me right now?”

“Oh, uh okay. Sure. Sorry.”

At that point I was totally dumbfounded. I thought I knew what the boundaries were and how our friendship had been defined up to that point. Is this what all guys had to go through? While I pondered these thoughts silently, I inadvertently wandered farther into the street than I had anticipated. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand and pulls me back toward the curb.

“Hey! What are you trying to do? Get killed?”

Her movement startled me out of my reverie and I mumbled something along the lines of, “Sorry…just lost in thought.” However, I did notice that she didn’t let go of my hand. In fact, she had both of her hands holding onto mine. I looked at her and she had this expression etched across her face. An expression of worry and concern that I knew probably came from my absentmindedness.

As I felt the warmth and weight of her body penetrate mine, I smiled to myself, apologized and readjusted my hand in her hands. She sighed and leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder and muttered, “Boys…so stupid.”

And I couldn’t agree with her more.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

As they approached, I tried pulling myself together, but I couldn’t get a grip. My mind was racing at Mach speeds and I could feel my body getting hot from nervousness. I prayed that I wouldn’t get so nervous that I would start sweating profusely. That would definitely kill me, not to mention make her run away in absolute horror.

Somehow, I made it through the initial pleasantries and I even managed to crack a few jokes while I waited for the girls to leave. Sensing that something was up, the girls refused to budge. As the conversation slowly ground to a halt, I realized that they would not leave; just so they could see one of their classmates make a total ass out of himself in front of the girl that he liked. Girls, they’re evil I tell you. Evil.

Fortunately, she was much wiser and forceful than I was. She ended up urging and shooing her friends to go home. After she successfully forced the last girl to go, promising that she’d call her as soon as she got home, we found ourselves suddenly very alone. Almost all of our other schoolmates had disappeared from the area.

It was if fate had intervened and was watching with mirth as I fell apart from the inside out.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

She wasn’t my first crush and she wouldn’t be my last. No, by that point in my life I’d had plenty of crushes. Some were short and sweet; the kind where the giddy feeling would pass a mere month down the road. And then there were the crushes that rolled over from school year to school year. Those were the ones that made me lose my sanity.

I wasn’t sure why she was different from the previous ones, but she was. She had long black hair that was always tied up in a topknot ponytail, which exposed her neck and shoulders, especially when the weather was warm. She was thin, fair-skinned and tall for an Asian girl considering our ages, and by my estimate, she had started developing early. She had this shy smile and lilting laugh that sent a jolt right into the very core of my being, melting my heart and the steel surrounding it. Whenever she spoke, I found myself inexplicably drawn to whatever she had to say. And when she stopped, my mind would scramble to find something to say, anything to say, just so I could hear her respond once more.

Yeah, so I was a dork. Give me a break.

I met her about a month into my 7th grade year. I spoke with her from time to time, between classes and during lunch, but I never really paid much attention to her otherwise. Most of my efforts went to teasing her. You see, that was my psychological defense against the unpredictable unknown. And it was my quirky way of showing that I had interest in a girl, but I was simply too cool to care.

Over time, we became more comfortable with each other. I remember going out of my way to walk her to the door of her classroom and I would buy her little snacks whenever she felt hungry. She would respond with her laughter and swan song voice. Every now and again, she’d push, punch or hug me, which always sent shivers down my spine. I wasn’t sure how to interpret the mixed signals, but I simply took them in stride. I’d do anything just to see her smile and hear her laugh. I had completely flipped over a girl.

Looking back, I’m sure that she had figured out that I liked her, since my clumsy flirting was quite obvious, but she didn’t shun me nor did she run away. Score! One day, I decided that I would try something that I had tried before, but had always been unsuccessful.

As soon as the last bell rang, I became a streak of light, running as fast as my legs could carry me so I could be there at her locker when she arrived. As she came strolling down the hall, a cadre of girlfriends happen to be tagging along. My mouth started to go dry and I thought to myself,”Shit! I wasn’t expecting to face 5 girls.” What to do? Should I take off before they could spot me and try this another day? Or should I just gut it out and be a man? While I debated with myself, one of the girls spotted me and called out.

Damn, I guess I couldn’t run anymore.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

I spent my first decade and a half of life in white-suburbia. By the time I finished middle school, the white kids still outnumbered the minority kids 3-to-1. And those numbers were after adding together all the black, brown and yellow kids. Since Asians comprise the smallest slice of the minority pie, you could effectively say that I didn’t have much exposure to Asian people, outside of my family and family friends.

Even though I was surrounded by mostly white folks and had mostly white friends, I always knew that I was primarily attracted to Asian girls. From their dark brunette or raven black hair, to their facial features and coltish legs; I simply knew that those were the girls who would someday make me smile with content or scream out with blind rage. I had nothing against the kaleidoscope of lovely girls that crossed my line of sight from day to day, but Asian girls happen to make me tingle in my no-no place. I love all my women equally, but I simply had a preference.

Early on, I realized that these creatures could potentially make me stammer, stutter and act like a simpleton. Given the right girl, my brain would turn to mush as my mouth would utter nonsensical phrases, while my heart would feel like it was about to jump out of my chest.

And one fateful day during my middle school years, a single girl succeeded.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.