k.i.s.s.i.n.g.

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He drew her to him.
She hesitated for only a second.
Then followed his lead, pressing herself enticingly against him.

She raised her eyes, looked at him.
He gazed back at her.
As his fingers gently combed her hair.

Her eyes closed.
Felt his hand lift her chin, bringing her glossed lips up, touching his.
Warm breath drawing them closer.

She felt his tongue.
As it skillfully lured its way into her mouth.
Gliding over her silky smooth teeth.

She responded.
Invitingly.

He pressed against her.
His excitement rising, intensely.
She followed his rhythm with equal passion..

He grasped the sides of her face.
Firmly.
Fingers entwined in her wavy locks.

They kissed.
Seductively.
Heated.
Like there was no tomorrow.

Yet.

They wanted to savor the moment.
Savor each other.

So.

They began to slow down.
Touching lip to lip.
Tenderly.

As they fell in love once again.
With another kiss.

Another passionate kiss.

To last a lifetime.

Mr. and Mrs.

f7804-img_1469When I first met Rudy I appreciated his kindness. He didn’t put on a show, a “look-at-me, I’m rough, tough, and I’ll tumble”.  Nah, Rudy was gentleman, without attitude. A good guy. With squared shoulders, narrow hips, and a serious set of brown eyes.

Those were our innocent days. The days we were slowly learning about each other. What made us tick. What made us tock. And what didn’t. Slowly, we began to reveal who we were. How our lives were formed, the reasons we acted the way we did, or didn’t, and who played a part in the formation of who we’d become. Young adults.

Before we even knew the other existed, Rudy and I both learned the importance of being independent as young teens. I grasped rather quickly that I had to create my own life, in my own way, without help. From anyone. Even in the midst of a large family. After his father died, Rudy knew he had to leave his mom to figure out how he fit into the world beyond his family. So, he moved from Central America to the United States. Full of fear, combined with wonderment.

Some might consider that I married Rudy, and he attached himself to me, so that we both could fill a need. To find someone, anyone, to stand with. To be with. To make a family with. But that wasn’t the case. That’s not what was on our mind. Not at all. Simply put, Rudy and I met, we liked each other, and, so, we got married. There was no agenda behind our relationship. At all. We just were. Two young adults. Following our hearts.

And, so, here it is, thirty years later, still both very independent, with lots of ups-downs-and-all-arounds, still learning. Still listening to the ticks, the tocks, and the whatnots. Listening. Listening. Listening. Reaping the rewards of understanding.

another woman

I heard he was interested in a girl, a younger woman. Someone he met, somewhere. She had dark hair and dark eyes. And was supposedly nice. A nice, simple girl.

He didn’t talk about her, and she didn’t talk about him, but somehow I knew this woman was someone who may, or may not, intrude on our life.

The day we went to the local fair, he and I, with our kids, I saw her. Just talking. I didn’t know her. Yet, I knew she was the one. Somehow I just knew.

He had wandered off, taking our youngest on a ride. I stayed behind, just hanging out with my daughter.

I walked over to the girl, said hello, and asked her if she was indeed interested in him.

The strange thing is, the fact is, that even though we didn’t know one another, at all, she knew who I was talking about and answered as if we were best friends. I think so, yes, she said. He’s nice. Very nice. She went on to say other things, nothing big deal, but things that confirmed her interest in him.

When she was all done talking I stated, He’s my husband, the guy you are considering a relationship with. The girl didn’t seem surprised by my admission. And neither did she seem pissed, as if she’d been duped. She simply stared at me with her big brown eyes, saying nothing.

Later, at home, I said to him, I know about her, and if you have plans to pursue something, anything, count me out. He looked at me, didn’t respond. Not five minutes passed when I restated my thoughts. No. Never mind. Just the fact you are interested has uninterested me in you. I’m done.

Suddenly I awoke, from the dream I was having about my husband considering an affair with a another woman.

I rolled over in our California King bed and found him there, lying on his side, turned toward me, looking at me. Good morning, we whispered, simultaneously.

the road

Rudy drove along the peaceful road, reflecting about the past two years he spent living and working in Arkansas. Two years of necessary income but, two years without a full-time family. As he drove, heading home to us, to California, he smiled, took a picture, and sent it to me via text. Almost there!, he wrote. Almost there!

About a week and a half ago, without hesitation, Rudy resigned from his job in the color lab where he was working, stating it was time to return home, time to reconnect with his family through daily interactions. Neither of our boys minded that they’d be taking a step back, allowing their dad to resume his role as the alpha male. And, of course, our daughter Liz was ecstatic to have him back in town, knowing her dad would have tons of cooking ideas to pass on to her.

When Rudy first called me with the news, I did what I always do. I completely supported him, telling him to come home, that everything will work itself out. Ah, just listening to you is soothing, he told me. I can’t wait to get home. I repeated the sentiment, laughing, feeling happy, concluding with an I love you.

And so it began. The reflective road trip home. Rudy drove for two days, stopping only once to sleep for several hours at a rest stop. The road trip gave him time to think about the experiences he gained in Arkansas, the family he misses, and what plans he has for his, and our, future.

Things are as they should be.

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