Unconditional Love

When you were 1 year old, she fed you and bathed you. You thanked her by crying all night long.

When you were 2 years old, she taught you to walk. You thanked her by running away when she called.

When you were 3 years old, she made all your meals with love. You thanked her by tossing your plate on the floor.

When you were 4 years old, she gave you some crayons You thanked her by coloring the dining room table.

When you were 5 years old, she dressed you for the holidays. You thanked her by plopping into the nearest pile of mud.

When you were 6 years old, she walked you to school. You thanked her by screaming, „I’M NOT GOING!

When you were 7 years old, she bought you a baseball. You thanked her by throwing it through the next-door-neighbor’s window.

Anatomy of a Kiss

He asked if he could kiss me when he heard I’d never had the experience. I asked him why. He’d also heard I had no interest in it. He leaned closer to me, trapping my eyes with his, and said he’d be honored to be my first.

Someone has to be my first, a voice whispered in my head. Why not him? It wasn’t like he was just anybody, after all. It was him, and he had always been special. He was being special right now in the way he was in my space, in the way he had me transfixed, in the way my breath had changed to something more swift and shallow. He was being special in the way he was closing the distance between us, and I was ready to voice my objections – how dare he presume my answer to be yes? – when something in my mind decided to inform me smugly that I had already nodded my head in affirmation.

When had that happened? It hardly mattered. It had, so nothing to do but go with it. I’d never done this before, but logic told me that if he had his lips parted slightly, then maybe I ought to part mine as well. His eyes flicked over the features of my face, and I found myself echoing the action, tracing the smooth line of his jaw, noting each faint freckle across the bridge of his nose, falling into his deep, soft eyes.