He was working through college on my grandpa's farm.
I was thirsting for knowledge and he had a car.
I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child,
When one restless summer we found love growing wild
On the banks of the river on a well beaten path.
It's funny how those memories they last,
Like strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love, oh, bittersweet.
Green on the vine
Like strawberry wine.

I still remember when thirty was old,
And my biggest fear was September when he had to go.
A few cards and letters and one long distance call.
We drifted away like the leaves in the fall.
But year after year I come back to this place
Just to remember the taste
Of strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love, oh, bittersweet.
Green on the vine
Like strawberry wine.

The fields have grown over now,
Years since they've seen the plow.
There's nothing time hasn't touched.
Is it really him or the loss of my innocence
I've been missing so much?
Like strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love, oh, bittersweet.
Green on the vine
Like strawberry wine.

Does first love get any more typical than this? A million things about people have changed over the centuries, but I’m sure being in love for the first time in the summer never will. The combination of the sweetness of the wine with the implication of being only half-ripe for love mix to summarize the emotion of the song. The author feels regret over her lost innocence, but I doubt that she would act differently if she had that summer to live over.

I seem to have missed out on this part of adolescence. I say “missed” because I know love won’t ever happen like this for me. The first time I fell in love was in the winter and the next two years stayed winter all year round. I’ve never been kissed, and don’t intend to be for a few years yet. I went on a date once because I was too surprised to say no, but the whole thing was a farce. I think I spend so much time evaluating the people around that I see all sorts of personality conflicts that would occur if we were ever more than friends. I don’t know if these predictions are accurate, never having cared to test them, but I think I’m pretty close to the mark. I’ve found that when two people I know well start to date, I can predict how long the relationship will last and why it will end. And so, having seen many gruesome breakups, I’ve chosen to stay single.

When I hear this song, I wonder what I’m missing. I’m missing the long dismal autumn and the pain of loss, but I’m also missing the first fresh love, unplanned, half-conscious. I wonder what it would be like to go into something without worrying about what the end would be. I wonder what it would be like to love someone without the interference of logic and self-analysis. The author is looking back as a wiser adult to her innocence at seventeen, but I’m not even that far yet and I’m already in the part of the author.