Daily notes and timed freewrites but mostly my blog |
Okay, blow me away. Just finished posting the previous prompted vignette and my door bell rings. Gee, who could this be at the door? Of course, when I see the two young men, white shirts, dark pants and shoes...You got it. Nice young men on their mission. What surprised me was, when the Elder asked, "Are you Debora?" I stepped outside onto the porch and we had a short chat. At the moment, I'm laughing because just moments before, I'm reminiscing about something that has drawn me very far away from the Church and those strict beliefs...what was one of those things that died? Oh yes, my concrete moral beliefs of what is right and wrong... I have rejected the crutch which I call organized religion. I have rejected the group judgments regarding who, how and why God made me. I'm not willing to listen to anyone who says, "Love the sinner and hate the sin," when the sin being referred to happens to be my basic sexual nature. I was very polite but very abrupt. The young Elder asked how I stood with the church? I was very honest and said, "I don't walk in that faith anymore." I felt for the young men, they were taken aback for a moment and speechless. I guess when I speak the truth, my conviction is quite evident. Like I said, the conversation was very short. I did not invite them into my home or into my life. I accepted their card, just in case I find myself in need of some assistance. My parting comments were, thank you for coming by, God bless you, and happy Valentines Day. Here is the prompted vignette I had been reminiscing over. If you had to describe the best kiss you've ever had, how would you describe it? (Don't forget the reasons behind your decisions!) Hmmmm, now that memory I like to think about even though I was thirty-one years old, married with three children and with that first best-est ever kiss I knew I was screwed. Up to that moment in my life, no one had delivered the kiss of death, but she did. And what a sweet death that was. I remember I was afraid and felt so awkward, but when her lips touched mine the urgency changed from, "Oh God what the hell am I doing?" To "Oh my God, why haven't I done this before?" It wasn't a long kiss, well not the longest I'd experienced before or since that first one with her. But it was intense with confidence and purpose. My breath froze and the tingling of urgency spread like a wave from the top of my head to my curled toes. I was dizzy and warm and fuzzy and shocked by the intensity but I didn't want it to end. I remember her soft brown eyes looking into mine and she asked, "You like?" I was jello. She could see I liked which was a good thing because I was in no shape to talk about it. And we kissed again. The second kiss and third were not as intense, but the margin of the difference was not really measurable. I have to say I was hers forever after that kiss. I said it was the kiss of death. In so many ways I died. I accepted beyond a doubt that I am a lover of women. My denial of my sexual self died. My marriage died. My childhood innocence, what little I still clung to, finally died. My concrete moral sense between right and wrong...died. My past became even more bazaar to me. My dream for a "normal" life, died. Reality kissed me to death and I loved it. True Story...That was one of those moments when there was no returning to how things were. |