Sam

Love. It is all I ever really wanted. The only thing I have truly yearned for in this life. It is clear as day now, after all this time. Sixty years of my life lived. Why is it only now that I see that so clearly?

I married once when I was young. We met on the dance floor at a bar not long after I graduated from college. The spark was unmistakable, even after we both had a little too much to drink.

Gary was an engineer, loved sports and all things entertainment. He definitely wasn’t my type, but it was the first time anyone had ever loved me. So, of course, we got married. In 2 short years, our differences became very apparent, and so did his affection for other women. We got divorced, and I never did see him again.

After that, I had a few short romances, but nothing serious. The next 30 years of my life I spent pursuing my finance career and climbing the corporate ladder. Eventually, I ended up here, as the CEO of a small but mighty financial services company and living in Chicago.

I should be happy. Having traveled the world and seen some exotic places. My work has provided a nice little retirement nest egg and afforded me plenty of time and money to spoil my sister’s kids.

But, work has grown to be tedious and boring. The politics, the oppressive policy, and the overabundance of procedure have all gotten out of hand. Progress is non-existent, much like my own life.

I have been thinking about leaving the job for years. Commitment, responsibility, and fear keep me stuck—fear of losing my retirement. But even more insistent, the fear of not finding anything else worthwhile.

This was supposed to be what I want, right? Or is it?

When Dad died a few months ago, everything changed. What I thought I wanted doesn’t look so good anymore. It has me questioning everything. Do I really like this house or the job? What has my life been about? What do I really want?

Then I got a call. It was my father’s attorney. He explained that Dad did not have much, but what he did have, he wanted to leave to my sister and me. There was no house, no stocks, and no pension. Just some money Dad had left in a savings account with his bank. Split between us, I was left with an inheritance of $20,000.

It was all a bit too much. Losing Dad, feeling bored and tired at work. I needed time to think and decided to finally take some time off work. The urge to travel wasn’t there, so I did some spring cleaning and started sorting through my life.

One afternoon I was up in the attic rummaging through old boxes, determined to get rid of anything I no longer needed. Why was I keeping all this stuff anyway?

One box stood alone in the corner that I had forgotten about. In it, I found some old memories from years back and a little black book. The book was tattered and frayed at the edges, and I hadn’t seen it in years.

As I opened its pages, I saw him. Sam. It is where I had placed my thoughts, an account really, of all my experiences with Sam.

Sam first showed up in my life when I attended a regional school math conference. He was from San Rafael, a two-hour drive from me. Cute, confident, and a year older, he had just graduated from high school. And everyone seemed to notice him.

In contrast, I was awkward and homely in high school. I had a few close friends, but hardly anyone looked my way. My love for numbers had been my escape. A boy like Sam would not have any interest in getting to know me. Or so I assumed. So, I stuck with admiring him from across the room and never made an effort to say hello. The conference ended uneventfully.

Martha and Emily were my best friends. We were three peas in a pod. And even though I never spoke to Sam, I couldn’t wait to tell my friends about him. He was all I could talk about for days. I’m sure they grew tired of hearing his name.

When Prom came around, my friends knew, like I did, that there weren’t any prospects for me at the school. No one was going to ask me to Prom. So Martha and Emily hatched a plan.

Martha called Sam, having gotten his number out of the registry for the math conference. She told Sam who I was and that he should take me to Prom. Never mind that Sam lived 2 hours away, had already graduated from high school, and couldn’t remember who I was. He told Martha he was flattered, thought it would be fun, and agreed to take me.

Sam called me a few days later and asked if he could escort me to Prom. I could hardly contain myself. Of course, I said yes!

When Sam showed up on my doorstep, my heart nearly skipped a beat. That night, he was handsome, charming, and so much fun. All dressed up in tux and gown, we went to dinner, put in a round of mini-golf, dropped by the nearest 7-11 to get Slurpees, and then went to the dance. We stayed on the dance floor most of the night. Mostly because I wanted an excuse to touch him. At the end of the evening, he said goodbye to me on my front porch with a short hug and a kiss. I was over the moon.

We talked a few times by phone after that, but Sam left for his military assignment shortly after. He had joined the army to earn money to go to college, and his first assignment was in Germany. We wrote letters for a few weeks after he left. But our communications slowly stopped, and I eventually forgot about Sam.

About 5 years later, I had graduated college and was living in San Francisco, having moved there for my first job out of college with a financial firm. One afternoon the phone rang. It was Sam. My heart skipped a beat just as it had that first time he stood at my door. He asked if I’d meet him for coffee while he was in the area. What started as coffee turned into a weekend romance. But in just a few short days, he was gone again. We talked a few times after that visit, but eventually, we both lost touch again.

Life went on. I continued in my career, got married, and then divorced. My company transferred me to a new location, and I moved to Houston. I spent my free time traveling the world.

About 10 years later, the phone rang again. It was Sam. He was in Houston and wanted to see me. I couldn’t resist. That little flutter in my chest found its way back. We met up for what was supposed to be a quick dinner. But dinner turned into a weekend, and then a few months. It was the best time of my life. I felt alive and in love. I never laughed so much or felt so seen and heard by a man in my whole life. I didn’t want the feeling to end.

But Sam was called up for a work contract in London. It was an opportunity his career couldn’t afford to pass up. He left about 1 week after that, and while we stayed in touch a few times, a long-distance relationship just wasn’t in the cards.

After that, I put my heart and soul into my career and eventually lost track of Sam. I often wonder what he’s doing now, where life had taken him, and if he’s found love.

Through the years, I have moved states, changed jobs, and continued to travel the world. But I have never looked for love again.

Reading this journal and remembering how it felt to be with Sam makes me yearn for love again. I realize now that love is all I’ve ever wanted. A love that’s pure and joyful, a love like I felt with Sam. Nothing else matters.

I put the house up for sale and have accepted an offer. It closes at the end of the month. Everything I don’t need has been sold. The rest is in storage or at my sister’s home. That RV I had been daydreaming about, I bought it and have moved what I need into it. Using the proceeds from the sale of the house and the $20,000 dad left me, I will search for Sam.

I don’t know where Sam is now or what his life looks like. He could be married and have kids. He might be balding and decrepit, or he might not even be alive. But I need to find out. I will never know peace or search for love again if I don’t try to find him.

At sixty now, I’ve experienced the world, built a life, and made something of myself. But this is the first glimmer of hope I’ve felt in a long time. It’s finally time to pursue the thing I only ever really wanted in this life. Love.