Our First Kiss
The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.
What a week it had been. On Friday afternoon I had time to let it all sink in as I walked with Jimmy and Amanda into downtown Bradford for some reason. We walked and talked about a number of things, but I’m sure my budding relationship came up at least once or twice. When Jimmy and I came back to the Cluster house, we went our separate ways. Stef was there though, and we sat on the floor in the dining area of the Cluster talking.
It was there, in front of the image of Stef I’d drawn on the big piece of paper Kristie had hung earlier in the semester, that Stef and I exchanged our first tentative kiss.
We were within earshot of our housemates, who were all either on the upper or lower levels of the Cluster. They probably could have peeked their heads up or down the stairs and seen us. In that way, the kiss felt stolen and risky and just plain wonderful.
There had been awkwardness the first couple days after she told me of her feelings, but we had a date set for the next evening and I had finally gotten out of the state of perpetual shock she’d sent me into with her proclamation. Our first kiss isn’t a memory that comes to my mind often, but when it does… Man, it’s one moment I could relive over and over and never tire of.