A slightly broken heart

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When I was 12, my family was transferred from Portsmouth, Virginia to Jersey City, NJ. We went from the suburbs of a small southern town to a large city in the north. I enrolled in Public School 11 in seventh grade and adapted to a totaly different way of life. I felt very shy and geeky, but my small group of friends loved me and my southern accent. Rudy Crosswell was the cutest boy in my class, but he liked me! He wrote me a poem about my ponytail which was so sweet. We lived in a several story apartment building and one afternoon Rudy walked me home from school. We were at the landing between two floors and Rudy gave me my first kiss. It was the only time, but I kind of thought of him as my boyfriend. We lost touch after my family was transferred to California, but a couple of years ago I tried to contact him on FB. I wanted to see how his life had turned out, reminisce about our days in Jersey City, and to tell him I still remember that first kiss. I found out tonight he died in 2018. I know it's probably silly to feel so sad. We only knew each other for two years when we were 12 and 13, but I guess a girl's first kiss will always be a special memory.