It was this day on a cold December afternoon with snow on the ground that we first kissed. Just writing that sentence sends chills down my spine and empassions my inside. When talking about it to her, she often denies the fact that she kissed me first. (I relish her denials.) Seated by the window in the living room of her mother’s house, we held close and kissed each other. She was 18 and I was 27. I hadn’t kissed a girl in years and the same with her (in her case, a boy.) The kiss was passionate and deliberate – December 5th on a Thursday at around 5pm – officialized what we had begun a few months back.
It was just two months before that she had just turned 18 and I, excitedly, celebrated it. She was the girl for me and I knew it. The expectancy of being with her infectiously stirred my days as I thought about the prospects of marrying her. My courtship was a result of my desire to marry the girl that I previously (and lawfully) disgarded feelings for. But now it’s in full bloom and there was nothing stopping it. As you can imagine, my family was not thrilled with the idea of such a young girl being married to their favored family member. The church leaders where concerned as well as she “was not ready” for ministry. And I cared less! I should have been more appreciative of their speculaions, concerns, and opinions; but my world was in a whirl and I was more than delightfully carried away.
Not too long after our first, we kissed again in celebration of our February 5th engagement at “our” park – Alice Austen House, at the mouth of Hylan Blvd, on the North Shore of Staten Island, by the banks of the Hudson River – this, too, on a Thursday. All day long I had gone back and forth from the Diamond Strict of Manhattan searching for her diamond ring. This was not planned mind you. I didn’t even realize that it was a Thursday and the 5th of the month. I had imagined asking her hand in marriage the day after Valentines (so as not to be obvious and corny), but when the revelation of the day and date occurred to me earlier on I knew that was to be the day.
Throughout our courtship I didn’t minced any oath nor did I hide any of my intentions: she was to be mine and forever I will love her – and that ring was to be its symbol. She knew from the first time she officially went out with me what that action meant. Though I was single, I taught the local church I pastor that dating was for marriage – nothing less. She understood the implications of dating me – her pastor – that saying yes to me for a date is tantamount to saying yes to me in marriage even before our February 5th engagement.
Six months later, on August 5th, we kissed again this time in marriage. Yep, you guessed it, a Thursday. The skies were overcast, the days leading were hectic, but my bride was gorgeous! All the drama that encircled our relationship came to a head that day. Though voices were not yet stilled, our voice was heard. Seven years and several months now from that date, I still can’t get enough of her. And every so often, “5ths” and “Thursdays” would dot the calendar and, in my heart, I celebrate her and in her loving glances, she celebrates me!
So happy first kiss anniversary my love. May our kisses never end.