The Kiss

He was old, so old. When did it happen? How?

It still seemed like only yesterday, he woke up ready to take on the world and blaze across the plains with his horse on his first run as an Pony Express rider.

Where did the nimble seventeen year old go who could once deftly leap a hitching post or in one lithe, fluid motion, duck under it and tie up his horse? Now he couldn't hardly bend to pull up his boots without groaning, much less mount a horse. Where had the time gone? Who was that man staring back at him in the mirror?

But when he looked at her, his lovely, beautiful wife, lying there sleeping peacefully, all the years melted away. In her eyes, he was, and always would be that young, dashingly strong and vibrant Express rider she met, fell deeply in love with and married. Together they believed they could conquer anything the world threw their way, daring the world to prove them wrong.

They had shared a lifetime of love, shared kisses, laughter, children, grandchildren, and they were even blessed to welcome their first great-grandchild into their lives, that brought about a shower of kisses and joy. 

Along life's way came their fair share of hardships and the years were sprinkled with the occasional arguments common to any couple in love, but always ending in kisses and many times much, much more.

His mouth turned up in a smile as he recollected the many and various kisses they shared. He loved holding her and never tired of her smile or the sweet taste of her lips on his. Over time they ranged from the wild passionate searing kisses of yearning love and need for the other, to the sweet and tender, like on the day he gently brushed his lips with hers as she held their first born in her arms.

But the one constant in all their shared kisses was that she made him believe that he was worthy of, and entitled to be, loved with every ounce of passion she possessed. Despite his frequent uncertainty of where or how he fit into this crazy mixed up world or his own doubts that he was deserving of a woman like her, it was her belief in him and undying love for him that cast his lingering fears aside. He always felt it, sure and true, in each and every kiss she gave and returned to him.

He extended a wrinkled, weather worn hand to brush away a silver strand of hair from off her brow. But he never saw the gray. In his eyes, her hair was still as shiny and vivid in color as the first time he tucked that same silken wayward curl behind her pretty little ear. He'd heard it said that the first kiss lasts forever. For him, it was true. That day was forever burned into his memory. It was the first time he kissed her and he knew his heart would forever belong to her.

They had attended their first town picnic together. He shouldn't have strayed as far away from the crowd as he had with her that long ago day, but when a man is young and in love he doesn't think of such things. All he wanted was to be with her.

Beyond the Church, and down a slight hill, there was a small grove of apple trees in full bloom.

He recalled that lovely spring day and how a warm breeze caused the blossoms to fall and swirl about them like fragrant pink snowflakes. Her laughter was infectious and he couldn't help but laugh along with her as she spun around and around with her arms open wide until dizzy, and still giggling, she fell into his arms.

Soft petals were strewn about in her hair. He'd never seen anything so perfectly beautiful and it took his breath from him. Slowly he reached his hand up and, for the first of many times to come, brushed back that stray wayward lock, letting his fingers graze her soft pink stained cheek.

Oddly enough his palms turned sweaty. He was a man, how could his palms sweat as bad as a school boy?

Sure, the crusty old Pony Express station master, Teaspoon, called him a boy. He called each and every one of the riders, his boys. They were a sort of makeshift family.

Regardless, Teaspoon also told them they all became men the day they took their first ride, which was true. His words, Ride like hell.

From that day, he rode incredible distances for the Pony Express, faced down outlaws with his six shooter, endured all sorts of weather, and Lord knows what else. Through it all he never batted an eye. But holding the prettiest girl in the county in his arms, on that long ago day, he found himself as nervous as a school boy.

It was her bright luminous eyes that undid him, and he felt himself falling and did nothing to halt his descent. In that moment there was nothing but her, and the sweet scent of apple blossoms.

Pressing his lips gently to hers sent a wave of sensations coursing through him that he never experienced before. Pulling back slightly, he saw her eyes flutter open and with that sweet smile of hers he surrendered , kissing her mouth fully. It seemed that the earth shifted beneath him and gave way as he felt her arms twine around his neck, slender hands tangling into his hair as he pulled her in closer while moving his mouth over hers in a slow rhythmic dance. To his delight he felt her moving in time with him.

He recalled how soft her lips were under his, how she tasted of wild honey, he couldn't seem to get enough. And with each kiss she returned, it left him simultaneously weak and emboldened; strong, yet at her mercy. He was complete in her arms and knew right then that he loved her and wanted to spend a lifetime savoring her kisses, her love and, in turn, loving her with every ounce of his being.

How long they had spent under that grove of apple trees kissing, he couldn't recall. All he knew was that he never wanted the kiss to end. He still didn't.

Age had left it's mark not only on him, but on his beloved. However, as he smiled down upon his lovely wife, he only saw the young, laughing, exuberant girl that twirled around and around in the falling apple blossoms.

Slowly shifting his aching bones from his chair to the edge of their bed, he picked up a cloth resting on a nightstand, along with a basin of cool water. Tenderly he smoothed it over her fevered brow. Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a soft smile that still managed to undo him. Setting aside the bowl he brushed his fingers over her soft, pale cheek. Her eyes were weakened from the long, drawn out illness but he still saw that glimmer shine within their depths that caused him to fall into her that very first time under the apple trees. Now he found himself falling into her once again. He closed his eyes and could smell the apple blossoms, feel the delicate petals swirling about them as he gently placed his lips to hers.

First kiss, last kiss and every kiss in between, with her soft lips pressed to his, he was whole, and strong, strong for her. Together they could conquer anything.

He felt her trembling hand touch his cheek, and he pulled away to look down at the woman who loved him with a fierce intensity that he never truly believed he deserved.

"I want to see," she whispered. "I have to see them one last time."

He never could deny her anything, and when it came to the house they built together, she told him that he had given her the world. That wasn't enough for him and said he would gladly give her the moon and stars if he could find a way.

She had laughed at his waxing poetic that day and threw her arms tight around him, telling him that he had given her more than the moon and stars, he had given her his heart and pink snowflakes forever.

He slowly got up from their bed and drew back the bedroom curtain, then helped raise up her frail form so she could see out. He put his arm tenderly around her as she rested against him and slipped her hand into his. Outside their window the apple grove was in full bloom.

"Look, it's snowing pink snowflakes... it's snowing, my darling love," she breathed softer than a whisper.

"Yes it is, love. For us, forever. Always snowing, my love." He turned enough to place one last gentle kiss upon her lips.

She closed her eyes one final time, with the memory of his kiss, warm and sure on her lips. With him she was strong, she could make the final leg of her journey now. He would find her, he would know where to look and she would be waiting.