Every first kiss holds the possibility of being the last first kiss. The wish that this is the person you’ll kiss for the rest of your life. The moment of realization that it wasn’t the last first kiss, but possibly the second to last first kiss or the fifth to last first kiss or the 20th to last first kiss, is a little bittersweet.
Bitter… wouldn’t it be nice if it just worked out for once?
Sweet… the butterflies and adrenaline of a first kiss are always welcome.
My first kiss was standing on the front porch of my best friend’s house. We’d (he and I) gone downstairs and I was unlocking my bike. The porch was green, the siding was white, the stairs were steep. We kissed on the porch.
Nothing special, except everything.
One of those “nothing will ever be the same” moments. The relief that floods a dramatic junior high girl’s heart that she “would not die as someone who had never been kissed.”
I thought I had more to say on this, and I do, but not tonight. Tell me dear readers, what do you remember about your first kiss or last first kiss or favorite first kiss somewhere along the line?