Last Summer

I hate the Fourth of July.

It was the summer of 2014, I was 18 years old and had just graduated high school.
The last thing I wanted to do was spend the summer at the marina with my
family, but I was forced to go. My family is fortunate enough to own a lake
house, and we spend most of our summer there. It was fun when I was a child,
but now, spending that much time with my family is just too overbearing. Little
did I know, however, that that summer would be forever burned into my brain.

That summer, I met the love of my life.

(Thinking about making this into a novel rather than just a short story. Let me know what you think!)