The Moment

December 13, 2007
By
Midnight comes and our legs are hooked between the rungs of the deck railing. Through the soft drizzle I feel the radiated heat from his bear arm.
Some say this is a life altering time. A moment to be remembered. To savor. To be cautious about, and to think through. But I have made my decisions, and they have lead me here. And I shall make decisions that will lead me elsewhere. I think not of the past or future. I think of the present, the now, this moment, and of the heat.
I slowly untwine my legs and bring them beneath me; my body turned towards him. I throw my head back to the stars veiled in clouds and feel the drops run down my face.
I sense his body move and turn as well, his denim jeans softly rubbing against the grain of the wood. I feel his gentle hand tentatively stroke my shoulder, and I look towards him resting upon my straightened arm.
Our eyes connect, and I am lost in his gems of liquid amber. Their complexity never quite comprehended upon one viewing, and I feel I have lost so much when forced to blink. I am caught. I reach my tender finger to his face and brush aside the short, dark hair that has fallen to his forehead. In turn he moves a limp strand of my own and places it behind my ear. However his hand does not withdraw as it rests upon my shoulder.
A large hand. A steady hand with power. It is a firm but most gentle grasp demanding attention.
In reciprocation, my thin hand rises to rest upon the back of his neck. The short hairs brushing the back and my palm feeling the strong muscles below.
I look into him. Not at, but deep into him and his emotions. We are ready. A silent agreement passes and our heads move closer. We stop for a brief moment. Our noses but a hair’s breadth away from one another. I can feel the warm steam from his nostrils on the hair of my upper lip. The sensation sends a shiver down my spine, and it happens.
In a fraction of a second, our lips have collided. Mine soft and supple, his steady and firm. I can feel the moisture of our mouths moving together.
It lasts but a mere moment, and the connection is relinquished, but only with the promise of more.
And so the moment has come. What they call the first kiss. They say it must never be forgotten, and that it is to be cherished, but I do not know. That moment is the past, and I am in the present – the now. Not living for the future, but only in the moment.





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