The summer I was seven

I took my first air flight

From Los Angeles to Boston

Where my dad would reunite

With long-time college buddies

And their Boston families, too

In a large and lushly landscaped yard

For a Sunday barbeque.

A giant weeping willow tree

With fronds that touched the ground

Was wide enough to hide nine kids

If we barely make a sound.

So, we disappeared beneath the fronds

And played a tackling game

With big kids wrestling big kids

And smaller kids, the same.

I took a liking to a boy

Named Sammy (he was eight)

And the tomboy still within me

Wrestled him with all my weight.

I held him down with arms and legs

Till “Let me up!” he pleaded,

“I’ll give you a kiss if you agree to this.”

One kiss is all I needed.

I had only just met him, that Easter morning. But he captured my heart at very first sight. He was everything I had ever envisioned, soft dark eyes, long lashes, short hair nicely kept. I tried to remain aloof as I sat on the sofa, sipping my cola, but kept watching as he wandered the living room meeting the holiday guests.

When he finally tired of that he sat down quite near me on the sofa and I could feel the warmth of him sitting so close to my left arm.

It took all the nerve I could summon but I finally turned to him and looked deeply into those languid brown eyes. He was looking right back at me, in a bold sort of way, and we simply were transfixed like that for several minutes.

Finally I felt this must be destiny, no one in the room mattered except this attraction, no one in the entire house were of importance except for the two of us. We leaned together, and I could feel his breath becoming my own. We moved as one, both wanting, both needing. Our mouths met, our moist lips brushed together for a moment which seemed to be eternity. He had won my very first kiss.

Sadly, as we each drew away, my older sister yelled out, "Hey Mom look at Linda! She just kissed junior's live pet rabbit right on his mouth!"

Were the fireflies guilty

of casting even more heat,

Their on-again off-again

lights switches, weaving

In and out of the sweltering

stillness of

Twilight in July?

Or was it the heavy air,

After it's cloudless day

In the sun,

Spent, dripping beads of sweat

Onto the grass,

As it descended toward its rest?

No, it wasn't fireflies,

Or the air, or July.

You,

Were the source of the heady

Weakness in my knees, the pounding in my chest.

Standing closer to me than

You had ever been,

Than I ever thought you'd be.

On the driveway, gravel diamonds shone beneath

The glow of the streetlight.

You leaned in, our eyes closing,

Offering up reverence

To the moment,

My first kiss,

Certainly not yours.

Lucky me.

Dear Diary, what a night.

July 6th, 1985