By Don Tassone
They were both 12, neither children nor adults. Their families were close, and being together had always been so easy.
But lately they had become careful around each other. She worried about how she looked. He worried about what he said.
Today, though, as they walked a familiar country path, and the July sun warmed their bodies and birds sang and bees buzzed and their hands touched as they strayed from the hard dirt into the soft grass, they stopped walking and faced each other and closed their eyes.
Their lips met and the world and all its worry fell away.
I’ve always thought that first kiss to be a pistol shot starting a whole marathon of adolescent angst! But, of course, with enough moments to justify a sweet story like this.
Ah, first love. You just can’t beat it!
…and I fell with them. I can read this over and over and feel weightless still. Lovely, simply lovely.
Thank you, Libby!