Kiss Day

Husband and I had our first kiss on December 1, 1995.

He was just twenty-two and I, the cradle robber, was thirty.

Things I remember…

After work, we met some coworkers at a Cantina to celebrate my boss’s birthday.

Happy Birthday, Rebecca!!

Husband and I rode to the restaurant together as friends.

We took a detour to the Ocean Beach Pier on the way back and arrived home as something more.

A nosy acquaintance had taken me out to lunch earlier that month, just to grill me about the relationship.  At the time of her third degree, husband and I were strictly platonic with no plan of anything more, so that’s what I told her.

“We’re really good friends, ”  I said, but she didn’t believe me.  I found her questions impolite and annoying.  The day after husband and I kissed, I laughed at her in my head.

I remember finally being able to study husband’s face that night.  I couldn’t do it for weeks before we kissed, because I knew my eyes would give away what I was feeling.

I was wearing a long loose knit sweater, a pair of black leggings and flat slip-on shoes.  Oh, and a necklace.

It was a little bit windy on the pier and there were a handful of people there, fishing.

Walking back to the car afterward was weird.  Exciting, strange, and sweet, but weird.

The following days at work were agonizing.  I couldn’t think straight and I felt paranoid and nervous, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

Husband left me love notes and we kissed some more.

Now we’re married and we have a beautiful little boy and a house and three cats and a Christmas Tree and all the almonds we can eat and a cow on the piano.

Life is good.

And it started with a kiss.

Happy Kiss Day Anniversary, Husband.

I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.