Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Thursday, November 29, 2012


Technically my first kiss was in the third grade. My friend Jessica and I played with two other boys during recess, and one day we were sitting in the little fort on top of the slide. Jessica and one of the boys slid down to the blacktop below, and I was getting myself into position when I felt a light peck on my cheek. I turned around and the other boy was bright red, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose. He whisked away down the other side of the slide and never said another word about it. I was shocked and a little indignant, and pulled Jessica into the bathroom to whisper frantically in her ear, “He KISSED me!” Jessica wrinkled her nose and said Ew. This incident was never talked about again, though Jessica and I continued to play with the boys for the rest of the year.

My first actual kiss was the summer between seventh and eighth grade. I fell in LOVE with my neighbor, Chris. We were very good friends and hung out together all the time. One day we went swimming at the lake; I can still remember that I was wearing a blue and black Speedo and Chris was wearing navy blue swim trunks. We both knew that we liked one another and flirted shamelessly. The lake smelled fishy and I didn’t like the way the sand squished between my toes. We swam far out by the ropes and treaded water silently, grinning at each other. My heart was beating so hard. Chris had the best smile, with a dimple on his left cheek and bright blue eyes. He gave me that look and pushed his face into mine, and suddenly his lips were pressed over mine and I remembered I was supposed to close my eyes. He tasted of summer and the lake and first love, and it was wonderful.


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