Momma's Kiss

    When I was little sometimes mom and dad would get a babysitter and go out. It was all so very exciting. Mom would transform herself from everyday mom to glamorous mom. She would put on a pretty dress with just a hint of scandal. Scandal was easier to achieve back in those days. She’d wear dangling earrings and a lovely golden necklace would lay against her creamy skin and when she moved her perfume would mix with the smells of her hair spray and her ruby red lipstick. The house would buzz with energy as if her excitement was contagious and for a short time we got to catch a glimpse of the vibrant young girl my father first fell in love with. We children never get to experience the youth of our mothers - mothers come preloaded with age and wisdom and responsibility. I wonder how many times the gestures or expressions on the faces of Tessa and Erin and Laura Mae gave hints of the young woman my mother once was and how many times they were recognized by my father who must have smiled and tucked them away like keepsakes.

     Before they left mom would tuck me into bed and kiss my forehead and I could feel her lipstick on my skin. A sort of warm, wet, waxy feeling right there above my right eye. My first impulse was always to wipe it off - but I wouldn’t.  I would lie there and try to feel that kiss for as long as I could.  And the warm would go away…and the wet would go away...and the funny waxy feeling would slowly, slowly, go away.

     I suppose it is the nature of kisses to be fleeting, to leave us remembering the last one and longing for the next.