I woke up this morning quite sad, full of thoughts that haven't been with me in a long time. Though, I'd be lying if I said I never thought of him. But last night I had a dream, and he was there. Just as I always knew him...

You see, we met at the age of 10. We only saw each other once a week at P.A.T. (I think that stood for Program for the Academically Talented) class. We quickly became friends, the best of friends actually. As we grew older and entered Jr. High School neither of us could have been more pleased to know we'd now be attending the same school. We'd see each other every day. We had several classes together. We also decided we were in love. Awe, who doesn't remember young love without a big grin? Holding hands while walking to class, writing love letters hoping the teacher doesn't catch you, sneaking late night phone calls, scribbling "I love so-and-so" all over your folders. What fun all of that was! Oh, we were inseparable. Life was perfect. But soon, seeing each other only during school wasn't enough. So he invited me over to his house one day after school to play basketball. His mother said she was looking forward to finally meeting me after hearing only my voice after all these years. And so it goes, the walk to his house after school, introductions were made everything was great! Until I got home and he called. It was at this moment that I witnessed for the very first time how ugly the world can be. He told me that his mom thought I was really nice but she had no idea that I wasn't white. He told her it didn't matter and she had a million reasons why it did. I'll spare you the nasty details that came over the next 2 years (we were not easily separated, as I said before) except to say that it was indeed nasty. Heated conversations took place amongst his and my mother, he and his mother as well as his mother and I. Eventually, after lots of sneaking around and pretending to date other people his parents won. We just couldn't do it anymore. We were defeated. It was so uncomfortable that we hardly ever spoke to each other throughout high school. We always exchanged looks that said "I miss you" but we never spoke. Actually, I did get the courage to call him once when we were in 11th grade. And I did tell him that I missed him. He sounded as sad as I was feeling and said, "Nina, please don't."
And that was our last phone conversation, ever. My last memory, is a good one. We were at senior brunch. I told him I would like him to take a picture with with me. He looked extremely surprised, yet happy. We put our arms around each other one last time, just long enough for it to hurt.

The adults used to whisper, let them be, they're only kids. It's not like they're getting married. They don't really love each other, they don't even know what love is. Even though these people were trying to help, these words were not comforting. They were a slap in the face.

Years went by. I always wondered where he was. I was sad (for selfish reasons) when I heard he'd gotten married. I was even more sad when I heard he was getting a divorce. Because even now, the thought of him unhappy makes me unhappy.

Looking back, I can say, yes. Yes, I loved him. I loved him the only way I knew how. He was my most trusted friend. Were my feelings of love as complex as they are today for my own husband and family? Of course not, I was indeed young. But we are all capable of love, at every age. And I beg of all the parents who read this, never deny your child the opportunity to love someone because you can't get over your own shortcomings about race.

Forgive me for being all over the place, but the truth is, it's hard to think clearly, because the emotion is still so strong. The tears will not stop falling. Just know that I cry not for the friendship that was taken away, or for my heart that was so badly broken. That pain has gone, although I sometimes still hurt from the scar. I cry for the ignorance of the people in this world who can not see past the color of one's skin. I cry for the people who still think that it matters.