Kiss
A kiss can change your world. One kiss can bring the foundation of you crumbling as his lips meet yours, as his hands rest low on your hips. One perfect moment can change the way you see things, the world no longer black and white, but steeped in grays.
Raking my teeth over my lip I can still taste that first kiss. The early morning crisp with autumn air, the wounds from the previous night still fresh. I have always been an early riser, my mind feeling its best first thing in the morning, but that had been irrelevant that day. I had tossed and turned all night, unable to understand how I could be so wrong about someone.
I had turned the corner, my legs moving quickly beneath me when I saw him standing there, his body turned towards my house, his hand shaking the pebbles he was throwing. My first instinct had been to turn away, to walk away as quietly as I had appeared, but my curiosity had gotten the best of me, and before I knew it I had spoken. My words sounded bitter and sad even to my ears, and I mentally cringed.
He had looked contrite, ashamed and a part of me had melted, so sure that I had been right all along about him, that he could be everything that I had hoped and more. As he spoke, my resolve lowered, instincts kicking into place, and before I had time to second guess myself I had launched myself at him, my lips rubbing against his instinctively. Pressing my lips together now, I can still feel the way he kissed me that day.
I had kissed boys before. Curious kisses filled with innocence and uncertainty. Nothing could have prepared me for my first kiss with him. Every thought I had melted, blurred as I could focus only on him, the taste of him, the scent of him as he kissed me back.
I had pulled back first, my eyelids fluttering as I saw the look I knew to be on my face, mirrored on his. My first thought was to question, to wonder, but he silenced them all as he bent his head to take my mouth again.
Foreign feelings rushed inside me, tumbled around as I felt only his mouth on mine, our bodies pressed together, my feet dangling slightly as he held me close. That was only the first of thousands of kisses, lips meeting in love along the years, and he has meant more to me than anyone ever could.
That kiss changed my world in more ways than one.
And now, as I sit here beside him, years into our life together, I can recall each kiss, each one unique in their own way, yet still solidly him, still us. I have come to love him more each and every day.
The memory of the look on his face when our oldest daughter came into our lives hovers in my mind. A smile stretched across his face, from ear to ear, as he held up our daughter for me to see. His eyes meeting mine and I knew I had never felt more love in that moment, our lives forever bonded.
The grin he has given me every morning, the smile slow and sweet, his eyes twinkling brightly. His fingers laced with mine at night when I would sit and read; his eyes trained on a sports game. I can feel his hair beneath my hands when we would lie in bed, our mouths mere inches from each other before a long slow kiss. I have memorized his face, the small freckle under his right eye, the faint wrinkles that time has etched on his skin, the rough scar along his temple.
The machines beep, the stark white of the hospital reminding me that the man I know is no longer here, his body the only thing left. My hands tighten around his, unwilling to let go even though I know he can no longer feel me.
I still see his hands as they were when we were young, a basketball fitting neatly between them, his gold ring glinting as it does now. They are wrinkled now, worn down with time and life, but still his, still strong and elegant, the fingers long and defined. I will miss feeling this hand, reaching for mine in the cool mornings as we would walk the neighborhood with our grandchildren.
I press his fingers to my lips as my eyes wander to his face, the hair at his temples salted with gray, his head turned towards me. I miss the feel of his gaze, that deep cobalt blue that I see in each one of our girls, and a desire rips through me so fierce I have to blink back the tears. To think that I will never feel his eyes on me is almost more than I can bear.
It seems like just yesterday when we sat side by side on the couch after we found ourselves pregnant with our first daughter. His smile was vivid as his hand traced along my still flat stomach, our eyes lighting together. He had been so excited, so thrilled, his happiness so contagious that even know I have to stifle a smile.
I let go of his hand now, one last time, knowing this will be my last moment with him. It's hard to let go of a hand I have held for more than fifty years, a hand I know as well as my own. I ache to feel the pulse of his hand beneath mine, to see his familiar smirk stretch across his lips.
To think of all the times he pulled me close to him, his hands light against my back, his mouth close to my ear, his words low and soft, has my eyes welling with tears. Even as we grew older, as our bodies slowed and our memories faded, our life together remained vivid within me, a beacon of light against the coldness of age.
The man who lies before me now shows no signs of the illness that ravaged him, that stole him of his strength but never stole his spirit. He stood strong to the very end, fighting with every ounce of him, even as the cancer spread, as his body lost to a force stronger than the strength he prided himself on. I love him too much to let him be remembered that way.
I will always remember our first kiss, the way we looked at each other in that moment, the way he made me feel. It was that kiss that changed my life, that gave me a chance at a love I only hoped for, and I know I would give almost anything to start from that moment on, to relive our life together; the good and the bad, the ups and downs, the love and the pain. He gave me more love than many people have a chance to experience in a lifetime; an unfailing love that I will hold close to me and cherish even as my time with him ends.
I take one last look at him as the nurse enters, our daughters following closely behind, reminding me that my time with his has ended. They come to stand on either side of me, their dark raven hair and startling blue eyes a comfort as I say goodbye to my first love, my only love. They are the only living piece of Nathan I have left, and the memories I have within me of him will carry me.
As I lean over to press my lips to his one last time, I hear my daughters break, their sobs quiet. My lips skim his, lightly, and I almost feel his lips move under mine like I have thousands and thousands of times before.
Our last kiss is as life-changing as our first, and all the more bittersweet.
I know I will remember him as he was, as we were together, our life full and happy, right to very last moment. He will be with me wherever I go and I will love him always.
His love is all I need. It always has been.