Kiss me there, and there, oh….
Remember when we were teens? We’d go off to the movies, arriving early to get the back row. Say, oh, twenty minutes into the movie an arm would go around the shoulder. Tentative at first, resting on the back of the seat, fingers twitching, poised to advance.
If the response to the arm was positive, the hand would progress to the shoulder, fingers light on the skin.
Perhaps this was the second date, perhaps arms had already been draped around shoulders, this time it was hands on knees, testing to see how far up the thigh they could travel before being slapped down. Uncomfortable fidgeting. Desire or repulsion. Uncertainty or adventure.
Suddenly, softly, lips touch like feathers, breath soft but fast, your glorious first kiss, fumbling in the dark, too much tongue, not enough, moist, dry, heart racing. Oh! Oh. Life has changed, something unknown is irrevocable.
The lights would flick on and we’d be there blinking in the brightness, an awkward gulf opening up between us. We would slide apart, popcorn slippery under our shoes, until the girls ran giggling together into the loos to compare notes, “how far did you go?” while the boys shifted awkwardly from foot to foot under the posters outside then pushing each other, cracking jokes.
It was delicious, new, exciting and terrifying all at once, discovering each other, finding ourselves, feeling our bodies lift and crave in ways we had never imagined possible.
Do you ever wonder what happened to those moments? Those glorious first flushes of early love, the lust of the first touch?
Like the transition from spring flowers to mature blooms, we grow and change, our love grows robust, deeper, stronger. Sometimes we suffer unimaginable loss, and the love we have nurtured and grown takes a new shape once more.
But a kiss stays with us, fresh and sweet on our lips, warm on our necks, soft on our heads.