Thursday, January 6, 2011
My first kiss wasn't all that memorable. It was the consequence, I'll remember. A boy in my class wrote a note about kissing me after school. I remember happily skipping home. I could feel my heart beating underneath my blouse and a sudden surge of giddiness. I was thinking, "Does he really like me? Is he my boyfriend now that he kissed me? Does it matter that he's not Puerto Rican? Will he ask for another kiss?" While all of this ran through my mind, I hadn't realized that I was only seven years old and shouldn't be kissing boys.
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, Auguste Rodin, "The Kiss"