When you meet someone so different from yourself, in a good way,
you don’t even have to kiss to have fireworks go off.
Source: Lisa Schroeder, I Heart You, You Haunt Me
Image: found at Pixgood
Inky: I remember my first kiss. It was with the really cool (in my day) neighborhood bad boy who unbeknownst to my naive self, liked me. He was walking behind me from the bus stop. We lived down this long dirt road that took you to the waterfront where our family homes sat. We turned the corner were you couldn’t see the road, or the lights of the houses and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulled me to him and kissed me.
I remember everything about that moment, the smell of salt air mingled with honeysuckle, and the hum of circadas. The way his lips, slightly chapped, felt against mine, how warm he was against me, and the taste of smoke and honey. Most importantly how my quiet heart suddenly took off, hammering against my breast as he drew away and looked at me.
I think my expression must of been crimson shock because the next thing I knew, there was a second, and then a third….
We were inseparable that year, much to the chagrin of my father and then my first kiss went off to work on a fishing vessel and we lost touch. He came back for me, years later, but by then and much heart searching later, I had concluded he had moved on with his life, so I had too…
BTW: that has to be one of the sweetest pictures I have found in a long time. I tried to find the artist but couldn’t. If you know, please shoot me an email.. inkyspen at gmail dot com… I like to give credit where it is due.