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It was 50 years ago; yet the memory is so very vivid.                                                                                           One summer night in 1969 when I was yet a teen of 19.                                                                                          I did not know it then, but it became an 'unforgettable night'.                                                                               It was a condensed night of passion, one without lust and sex.
Sex was the farthest from our minds for two basic reasons. Our                                                             future success depended on it, and we believed in each other.                                                                    

That night is forever locked in my memory with two 'unforgettable things'.                                                It was unforgettable because it was beautiful, and it was soaked in utter brevity. There was beauty; and there was brevity in one night's kiss.  At                                                
the time, it was thought to be a pathway to an exciting new relationship,                                                        but it became so much less than that after the one act episode of one French kiss.                                                                                                         

It would be remissness if I should dismiss the memory of that one kiss. That one act was an embrace and a kissing episode like none I had ever known. There was limited and pleasurable passion, and I'm grateful that it seems she knew better than me that 'the moment' had to end quickly while there was still a sense of self control.

Perhaps it was meant to be, because she was called away to an ill mother some 2000 miles away. We soon lost touch with each other and were as strangers when we met again some years later. By then, both of our lives   had moved on apart to other situations and other people.                                  

So much of life seems to unfold in pieces that perhaps it serves us best if we learn to appreciate and  take advantage of every single piece. Like pieces of a puzzle, one can assume that our brief relationship was one piece; one piece for her life and one for mine. Who knew that a French kiss was just a piece of puzzle in my life?                                                                                                                   

Perhaps we are also better served in that our puzzle of life doesn't come with a beautiful picture of what it's suppose to look life. Even so, we must find a way to take that piece for what it is worth and move on to the next piece, which like Abraham's ram, may very well be waiting for our next move.   

There was a good while before I was to meet my next piece of the puzzle   and fall in love with my bride.  I do not consider it as one that got away, but rather one that was not meant to be. But even so, the above encounter is not a secret, because I have shared this summer night in Chicago with my wife.

090520PSCtest, Anna And The French Kiss, Mystic Rose Rose.                     Contest judged 91121. 1P
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