MISSED KISS

                                                                 MISSED KISS


                "To dream, perchance to be in body or in spirit, here yet there, I know not," Paul wondered, more wished not true that moment most hoped for, most dreaded.  He looked down.  The tightness of the roller blade laces round ankles testified to the here as now, as did the vibration of not so smooth town pavement beneath.  The sigh of his breath hung in the cool evening air.  Cassie was there, attached to him palm in palm, breathing in unison, slowly skating to nowhere.

                As for Cassie, she too pondered, feared the answer to the question she came to bear.  What damage had thirty years without her carved into his heart?  Would Paul forgive her?  Did Paul still want her? Would his answer be sharp, perhaps coarse?

                Skating somewhere on the ungentle slope of Veritas Lane, Cassie stopped.  She did not let go his hand.  She pulled Paul round to face her.  And face to face she dared ask, "So, how have you been?"

                Paul avoided her eyes, looked over her shoulder, saw on Veritas Lane corner the Church spire, the cross, pointing to heaven.  Light snow began to fall.  He followed solitary flake down to the tip of cute pug nose.  Paul looked into Cassie's amber eyes.  "God, she is so beautiful," escaped his lips.

                Cassie blinked.  What Paul said and how he said it had both flattered yet unsettled her.  "Thank you, I think?" Cassie smiled; asked again that same caring, more probing question, "So Paul, like really, how are you?"

                For more than a tad of a while Paul gathered her into his eyes.  Her hair was shorter, darker, coarser; her right eyebrow only partially hid a not long ago scar; and her neck, well her neck was as remembered, slim, soft, inviting... "I love my wife," he answered.  "I love her no where near as much as she deserves.  She is beautiful, even at our age, she is still beautiful.  A sweeter soul upon this earth, there is none.  She is a good mother, a better grandmother.  She loves Jesus.  She even loves me."

                Cassie ponders all these things, but her heart knows reason that reason knows nothing of... She pulls herself close to him.  Her body presses against him.  Her head tilts.  Her eyes near closing.  Her lips part.  Paul breaths in her familiar sweet breath.  He hugs her tight...

                ...And whispers in her ear, "Every day, every night, for so long I prayed to be with you... Now I pray for you... So many years... I missed your kiss... and so shall I miss your lips to the day I die..."

                ...And they wept...

                As the pure white snow increased flow, Paul looked again unto the cross atop Church steeple; and began witness: "Cassie, Jesus teaches us to  pray in this manner: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.  Thy kingdom come.  Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread. and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever." Cheek resting in her hair, with all his heart Paul added, "And Cassie, God loves you so much that he gave for you his only begotten Son, Jesus, that if you believe in him, you will not perish, but have abundant life forever."

                "Jesus," Cassie wept into the chest of Paul.

                In a rush the gentle snow swirled about them... and for Cassie the skating to nowhere... became a walking to somewhere... with Jesus...

                Matthew 6:9-13 KJ; John 3:16; Romans 10:13; 1st Corinthians 10:13   

  

                         

LET GO

                Knuckles kneading temples, Anida Knapp strained to squeeze out tears.  Her elbows ground into kitchen table as knuckle vise ratcheted tighter.  No tear welled, yet drop fell, crimson drop fell from nose, spattered table top. "Another nose bleed!  Why me?  Why?  Why?" Anida's voice cracked.

                Toting groceries, daughter Serena entered kitchen door, quickly assessed all too familiar Mom meltdown. "Take a chill pill, Mom." Serena sighed, set groceries down, plopped into seat next Mom. "And why the bloody Nile nose?  Could it be as usual, like Pharaoh of ancient Egypt, you just can't let go?"

                "Don't you start with that religious garbage!  I'm not in the mood!" Anida barked.

                "Just because you are not in the mood doesn't make it any less true.  And as for religious garbage, that was Pharaoh's worst flaw.  Except for the Jewish folk, who actually had a relationship with our Creator, Pharaoh and the Egyptians were drowning in a religious sea of animal, nature and stone idol worship.  Now what could possibly go wrong with worshiping the creation rather than the Creator?" Serena would have continued, but...

                "So they did their own thing!  It's got nothing to do with me!"  Gloss of table top mirrored Anida's bloody Nile nose nearing flood stage.

                Serena to the rescue got up, unrolled paper towel, moistened it under faucet, "Mom, tilt your head back." Serena applied cool wet towel to Mom's nose, instructed, "Hold this on your nose and gently pinch."

                "Oweee!" Anida yelped.

                "Gently, Mom, and keep your head tilted back," Serena cooed.

                "I gonna bled ta dead!" Anida dramatized.

                "Now Mom, you are not going to... Well yes, Mom, you are going to die," Serena changed tune.

                "Whad?" Anida squawked!

                "Yep, deader than a charioteer chasing God's chosen people through the collapsing walls of the parted Red Sea.   Because you can't let go..." Serena smiled.

                "Ooh ar obsessethed!" Mom accused.

                "Really?  And what, may I ask, set off my Mom's bloody nasal drip this fair morning?  Did Dad run away?  Did Muffins the cat die?  Home foreclosure?" Serena wondered with purpose.

                "Nud ud doods!" Nasal clog was setting in.  And with head tilted back Anida struggled even harder to enunciate, took deep breath through mouth, poured forth the morning's tragedy, "Da coffee maka brokeedid."

                "So, not only are you obsessed with trivial inconvenience... but possessed by a possession," Serena observed.

                "Bud ed mud coffee furfect!" Anida whined.

                "Mom, you suffer from the ever popular religion of possessions or O.P.D., obsessive possessive disorder, better know as... YOU JUST CAN'T LET GO..." Serena cast a one eyebrow arched stare.

                "Bud I doh wanna et go!!  I... I wad ta fix ed!" All too elusive tears began to flow down Mom's cheeks.

                With loving hand Serena wiped Mom's tears away, soothed, "As Pharaoh learned too late, when you just can't let go, the hardened heart beats destruction.  And Mom, as far as our lives go, there is no such thing as self cleaning... We all need Jesus..."


                                       ...Why be a Pharaoh of what not to be...

                                              Exodus: Chapters 1 through 15

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