I was rushing around the kitchen the other morning doing my usual: eggs for baillie, peanut butter for Allie, yogurt for Charlie, coffee for me, lunches out, empty dishwasher – you know, the usual. Sandy came downstairs and he and I bumped into each other in the kitchen. Oh yeah, my husband. I stopped in his way and put my arms out. We hugged and he kissed me quickly and pulled away towards his next task. Now, wait a minute, I thought, there was nothing about that kiss that had anything to do with me. He was thinking about his smoothy, packing his lunch for the day, getting the kids teeth brushed and how much time we had left until school drop-off. I realized that I, too, was thinking only of what must be done. That kiss had utterly no meaning other than a morning task completed. I felt a rush of disappointment, and then paused.
“Sandy,” I asked. “Will you please come back here?”
“What, hmm?” he murmurred.
“Please, kiss me without thinking of anything else but me”
“Oh,” he said with a low, rumbly laugh. “Good idea.”
And, there in front of the refrigerator, I with a lunchbox in my hand, he with a bag of frozen fruit, we had one humdinger of a kiss.
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