Summer romances begin for all kinds of reasons, but when all is said and done, they have one thing in common. They're shooting stars, a spectacular moment of light in the heavens, fleeting glimpse of eternity, and in a flash they're gone.
Young Allie: Why didn't you write me? Why? It wasn't over for me, I waited for you for seven years. But now it?s too late. Young Noah: I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you everyday for a year. Young Allie: You wrote me? Young Noah: Yes... it wasn't over, it still isn't over