I remember the night so very many years ago…It was dark and foggy and wet. He was there up on the top of the hill waiting for us. She pointed up at him and then sat down in the grass – supporting my adventure and giving me the private space I needed to complete it. He was short, had fair skin and a short blond buzz cut. His bright blue eyes sparkled as he waited for me to finish my hill climb.
I had chosen him out of my friend’s class photo. She lived in another city and had the gift of an entire unknown class for me to explore. And I had chosen him.
I was so brave back then. Believing that what I had to offer was enough for anyone to be excited about. So I climbed that hill, encouraging myself as I went. He awaited my arrival and then as I stepped into his personal space he pressed his lips immaturely against mine and behind me my friend giggled.
It was one of those moments I will never forget. I was proud of my bravery and that resonates with me even today, almost thirty years later. I continue to push my limits, forcing myself to step out of my daily comfort, encouraging myself to feel enough and worthy of anyone or anything in my sights. But even more so that night stays with me on my lips. My mouth for years used to pulsate with the memory every six months or so…and now it’s been over a decade…but today as I look in the mirror I am reminded of that night by a painful, bubbling blister that is boiling out of my skin, making itself at home on my lip.