Have you ever wandered upon an intimate moment between two people and felt it was too beautiful to be seen or shared by a third party? That feeling that you stole something that wasn’t yours? But a solemness drifts down upon your shoulders because you can’t “un-see” it. And goodness, being in a trance-like state, you didn’t have the presence of mind to look away. And it was right there in the open for you to see, so…So there is only one choice to be made. You must dissect the pieces and particles floating around and relish the moment to the best of your ability. That responsibility is some kind of penance in itself I think; an undertaking of exquisite artistry.This partaking seems sacred and ordained. Of course it takes time and skill. There can be no evidence or remnants. That would be wasteful. You’re left with just you. changed. grinning. grateful. It must all be devoured to give it the respect it must deserve. Ingested and part of you forever. And maybe you blog about it to wring out the very last drop of goodness.
I hesitate to tell you of my meanderings into such a scene because, 1. I can’t capture it’s essence in words alone. And 2. To some it will feel so small. But to me it was a grand melding of past, present and future, all rolling into some kind of symbol to hold and rub. A rabbits foot of sorts, not superstitious, just reassuring.
Here’s the scene: I’m driving home from work. Tired. Things on my mind. I’m doing gray-matter gymnastics, ya know, just trying figuring some things out. I looked beside me and there is this Adorable (capital A Adorable) older couple beside me. They looked to be in their 80’s. She had a cute scarf tied around her hair. They were in a bright red Volkswagon convertible. (Any convertible has my attention. I love them). We pulled to a stop at the stoplight . I glanced their way to see that he leaned over and she leaned over and they gave each other a kiss. Not a peck mind you. A real solid, long, intentional kiss. I smiled. “How cute.” Cue green light. We make it a little farther and get caught by the next light. Red. Stop. I glance at them. Yep. He leaned over…and she leaned over…proceed kissing. I’m smiling bigger now. “They do this at every red light?” And once again we’re off to the next light where kissing is sure to happen. It did. By now, I’m just dying to hear how this ritual began. The light turns green and I see that they are turning instead of stopping. I lose track of them as they turn and continue into their sweet world. I’m kind of sad. Then I thought, “well, don’t idolize a kiss. They’re just people like all of us. They have days that they do gray matter gymnastics like the rest of us.” I’m saying/thinking all of this to myself. And low and behold myself answers me. “That’s true Sonya, but that’s not what they’re doing at the red light. Somewhere along the way they made a choice to kiss at red lights. Gosh, it seems pretty smart to me. Who doesn’t mind waiting if they’re being kissed? They chose red lights as a place where brains and calculations and short tempers and impatience could not rule…and anybody can choose that, right?” Yep that’s what myself said to me. A huge reminder that I can choose some kissing places. Or some singing places, or some dancing places or some sacred praying places.