“We should take pictures of us kissing each other” she said, the other friend who was with us that weekend. We were all having tough years, two of our marriages falling apart, all kind of a mess and in need of a little solidarity and respite, so we went to the beach for a girls weekend. We’d decided to take some fun photos on the beach and in our little air bnb, for our husbands, for ourselves. Why shouldn’t moms in their mid-thirties get to feel a little wild and free and beautiful after all?
Kara had Walked in the Door and flipped our worlds upside down a few days before but we’d been dancing around all those feelings. And then our friend suggested it’d be cute if the three of us, feeling empowered and adorable and sexy as we did, in front of the camera in our undies, as a joke, kissed. Sure, we said, why not, whatever.
But then that thing we’d been avoiding thinking about or feeling for two days became abundantly clear and completely unavoidable. We both took nonchalant photos giving our friend a cute little peck on the lips for the camera, looked at them and laughed, they were pretty freaking adorable. And then it was our turn, she held the camera and directed us. It took us three tries, we were so nervous and timid and awkward. And then we kissed. Just a silly peck for a silly photo. Our lips barely brushed, I couldn’t even face her when we did, but man did my whole head fill with dizziness and wonder.
It was certainly the end of denying or avoiding the “there you are!” our hearts had begged us to hear when I opened the door for her that Thursday afternoon. We danced that night, all night really, at a little beer garden on Kure Beach. My hands found their home around her waist, and everything in me lit on fire when she threw her head back with the brightest, truest smile I’d ever seen.
Never ever ever had I known love could be like that, so honest and warm and full of joy. And then in the time it took a lens to click, we did. And in case you haven’t noticed, we never looked back.