"Tell Mike I said 'Hi'."

It's been four years since my summer romance with the boy next door, and I saw his dad Max today for the first time in maybe two years. I'd almost forgotten what Mike looks like, but when I looked at Max it was a little blow in the gut when I remembered how much they look alike. We spent a few minutes catching up: Max was hit by the flood and I showed him my motorcycle. I asked about Mike and he's doing the same: still a little lost. It made me sad to hear that, because when he left he had something to prove to himself, and I was hoping the job would help him do that. I had hoped he would find a little happiness for himself. I still hope that.

A part of me still misses him. So when I hugged Max goodbye and said "Tell Mike I said 'Hi'", "hi" is the great understatement. He may only ever hear "hi", but it means "I'm sorry we didn't have enough time to figure out whether we were right for each other. I wish we had kept in touch, but I understand why you didn't want to. I will always care about you and wish the best for you."

Someday I hope I'll see him again. If just to tell him "hi".