The Kiss When he was born and came home with his mother we were afraid on our own to look after our treasure. When he lay still in his cot we looked at each other and gave him a kiss to check he was breathing. He was just a small child that first day at school. Proudly we watched as he skipped with his friends up the lane. He never looked back nor saw the tears in our eyes as we blew him a kiss from hearts full of pain. Later he walked to the Cubs with his friend staying together and looking both ways at the kerb before crossing the road then straight home at the end. Both going and coming too old for a kiss. In his teens he loved going out on his bike up and away when he saw the sun rise. He always was home before darkness to tell us where he had been. The kiss was in all our eyes. When he started to drive he knew how we worried and told us exactly where he would be He assured us that driving he never hurried and gave his mother a kiss before going to bed. Until that night. We both looked at each other when the clock struck eleven and our hearts turned cold we made excuses and turned the t-v down to hear the car come home. The kiss was on hold. Minutes turned into hours and our feelings changed. Telling each other there was nothing amiss but increasingly angry because it was strange - bewildered and aching to give him his kiss. Saying nothing we knew we would have to ask how he could treat us like this after all we had done and ask if the kisses meant nothing to him when he knew how we worried until he came home. The phone never rang. Lights went out all around. Anger plotted how to deal with the boy. Night wore on and off until the doorbell rang as daylight dawned to silhouette a policeman standing at the door. We were shamed of our anger as we were told that our precious son did all he could to miss the speeding driver. For hours he lay dead in a ditch. And we were not there to give him his kiss. |