He was two years older than I was, and, in my eyes, he appeared quite handsome. He worked very briefly on our farm. I could feel his eyes watching me when I did my chores and when I rode my horse. One day, I glimpsed up from the piano and spied him outside of the picture window of our house as he listened to the aria that I played and sang.
He owned a very cool 1956 baby blue Ford convertible with a black interior, which he had restored himself. I had a love for old cars back then, and I still do. He offered to give me a ride in it, which, of course, my father forbid.
Father allowed us to go roller-skating once every three weeks, and we reveled in it! The uplifting music and mixer were fun for everyone there. We grew to know the regulars who attended, as did the moms and dads watching from the sidelines. One night, my best friend’s mom dropped us off at the roller rink and planned to pick us up later.
He appeared out of nowhere. I had never seen him at the roller rink before that night. He asked me if I’d like to go for a ride in his car. I hesitated as I heard the voice of my father in my head, and then I thought about how everyone teased me for being so quiet and obedient. Certainly, that was a good characteristic, but that night I decided I’d like to find out what it felt like to break out of the mold. I accepted a ride from him even under the cautioning of my best friend.
The car made me feel like a starlet in an old movie as we drove around town with the top down. We were gone from the roller rink very briefly, and then I urged him to take me back. He did so with no argument, and parked the beautiful car in front of the roller rink for all to see.
He took my face gently in both his hands, and kissed the end of my nose, each eyelid, the base of my throat and my lips. I had never felt the softness of another person’s lips, and it delighted and surprised me. After the kiss, I excused myself to go back inside the roller rink. It was then that I noticed my best friend’s mom sitting in the car next to us. She was waiting to pick us up. I flushed red with embarrassment. Even though my best friend’s parents allowed her to date, my parents forbid me to date yet. I knew that her mom understood how innocent I still was. Her mom never told my dad, for which I am ever thankful. If she happens to read this blog, she’ll laugh and say, “I remember that.”
Many years later, when I was out of high school, he asked me out on a date. No longer did I find him attractive, and couldn’t imagine myself in any kind of an embrace with him, and so I declined.
Now, as I write this piece in my maturity, the post high school invitation doesn’t matter because nothing will ever detract from the precious sweetness and sincerity of that first kiss. I am thankful for the brevity and simplicity of it. It was a treasured feeling that I held close to my heart for two more years, until my father allowed me to date. It was a standard by which I measured future kisses for honest and heartfelt meaning, and it caused me to hold my love close to the vest, a good response in one so young.
Even though I was disobedient, God looked after me, and buried the true intent of genuine caring in my heart. I wish that everyone’s first kiss could be a winsome and gentle encounter, a brief taste only, which promises passion and inspired love in the future for those who allow love and commitment to grow together.
What are your precious childhood memories?
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