First Times by Nancy M Bell

 

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First times and last times. If we knew we were going to do something for the last time, would we do anything differently? 

As I approach my 65th birthday- dear heavens how did I ever get that old?-  I start to remember all the firsts in my life. 

I remember the  first time I rode a horse a Bowmanville Zoo. I was very young, but I can still remember the feel of the horse moving under me, and see the sunlight through the trees on the brown earth between his ears. I remember the last time I rode. It was in 2006, a year to the day after my accident that effectively ended my riding career. It felt good and it felt right and I never thought it would be the last time I threw a leg over a horse. Actually, that day it was more like I crawled unto her back, but that's a moot point. Had I known it was the last time, would I have put up with the pain and ridden her longer, held onto that joy. Held unto that magical connection between horse and rider when it seems like I see through her eyes and we think together. 

I don't know. Perhaps some day I will have the joy of sitting on a horse again, I hold onto that thought, it helps balance me and keep my sane. 

I think every girl remembers her first kiss. That special step from childhood into young adulthood, although we don't realize it at the time. I remember the date of course. August 15th, 1970. It was the summer I'd just graduated from grade school and looking back it was the last summer of my childhood. We had a cottage on Davis Lake in Haliburton County in Ontario. My heart still goes there in memory to visit. There were four of us girls, my sister, Elaine my friend, and Abby who worked at the little store at the end of the lake. And of course there were four boys. Local brothers and their cousin who lived on the Buller Road. Doug was my first boyfriend, and the first boy I ever kissed. At the top of our cottage driveway, under the maples in the magic darkness that lies under the canopy of trees. I took the first step into womanhood, although that transition was still years away. I guess a corner of every girl's heart will always hold a special place for that boy who gave her that first kiss.

For me,  my first horse was a huge milestone in my life. Horses are, and always have been a huge part of who I am. Brandy was my first and even knowing how and when it would end, I wouldn't change a single thing. He was my rock and my safe place as I manouevered through the uncertain waters of being a teenager in the 1970's. 

So many firsts, and so many last times. The last time I spoke to my dad, the night before he died. The last time I saw his face. It's been 13 years and it still brings tears to my eyes. 

Life is a  journey, full of firsts and lasts, I guess the best we can do is ride the joy of the peaks and persevere through the valleys of uncertainty. November always seems to be a month of introspection for me. This year is no different. On November 11 I think of my grandfather who lived with us when I was young. Shaving and picking shrapnel out of his face and neck years after the war was ended. He taught me so much and most of all to honour all life. When I was really young he showed my how to catch a bee in a kleenex and set if free when it was trapped on the window pane frantically trying to get out. That memory has stuck with me my whole life.

Wishing you joy and peace as the days draw in and we wait to turn our faces to the light at Winter Solstice. The magic mid-winter night when the after the longest night that light pushes back the dark once more.

Until next month, be well, be happy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

 

 

 

So what really is in a kiss? Tricia McGill

Find all my books on my BWL author page 

A lot it seems. This post was meant to be about that first kiss—and how it affected us. But as happens with research (this is why I love it) you end up finding out a lot more than you set out to find. While recalling my first ever kiss I was taken back to when I was about 14. That was when I met the boy who gave me that kiss. I was

looking my best (or so I thought) in a black and white check skirt and jacket that I treasured. My sister Joan made it for me to wear at our dear Dad’s funeral when I was just 12 (I didn’t grow much in those years). Needless to say, the day mentioned above saw me also wearing white ankle socks and a white bow in my hair (my sisters did love to put me in a bow).

 

My cousin, who was slightly older than me, and already courting her young man, decided it was time I also found a boyfriend. I was not that interested to be honest—boys were just pests at that time. Anyway, the boy she and her friend picked out for me was nearer her age and quite a good-looking fellow—tallish with dark hair—every young girls dream. Unfortunately, he took one look at me in my ankle socks and hair bow and laughed. That killed any thoughts of romance with him. To try to cut this story a lot shorter, I must have caught the eye of his younger brother who was somewhere in the vicinity. A few days later, he turned up on his bicycle in my street and sought me out—told me he thought I looked nice and hung around for a while, eventually giving me my first kiss. Truth is, I have no recollection of how that felt, only know that it was at the kerbside. To round off this story—roll on a few years to when I was an almost married woman. We met these two brothers at a party. To my utter dismay—or it might have been relief—the younger one treated his then wife with a certain disdain, flirting with all the other women, me included, while his older brother had become a real gentleman.

 

There have been a few first kisses since that one, some memorable some not. Funnily enough, I didn’t fall in love with my husband of forty years at our first kiss. Which goes to prove that it does not always map out that the best first kisser proves to be the best partner in life. He was pretty good at many other things that mattered.

 

So back to my research. It is believed by some that the idea of kissing came about millions of years ago and had nothing to do with romance. It is thought that ancient mothers force-fed their babies mouth-to-mouth after chewing the food, just as many other species still do.

 

Many cultural groups did not have a clue about kissing apparently. Early historians have named India, and in particular, Verdic Sanskrit who mentioned in his literature as far back as 1500BC that they rubbed noses together. One theory is that while in the process of nose rubbing someone slipped lower and realised that the lips were more sensitive and touching them gave real pleasure.

 

Over the centuries, more historic references turned up. An epic poem by Mahabharata mentions that when their lips met she made a noise that produced pleasure. Let’s not forget the Kama Sutra, a classic text that apparently contains many descriptions on the technique of kissing. I say apparently, as I have never read it. Then of course along came Alexander the Great, bless him, whose conquering armies spread the art of kissing wherever they went. They supposedly learnt of it from the Indians. Then after Alexander died, his generals went off to various parts of the Middle East to carry the word—and the kiss.

 

The Romans, it seems, popularized the art of kissing and thus spread the practice to parts of Europe and North Africa. Aha, I was waiting to find out where what we know as ‘French kissing’ derived from. Believe it or not, there were devoted “kissing missionaries’. What began as a kiss of friendship delivered on the cheek, developed into a more erotic lips-to lips, and finally a kiss of passion which became the French Kiss. The Romans even had laws that went along with kissing. If a virgin girl was kissed in public by a man, she could be awarded full marriage rights from him.

 

By the Middle Ages most Folk in Europe were kissing, but the practice was governed by the rank of the kisser. The lower the rank the further from the lips the kiss was delivered. So if you were a lowly serf who could not read or write you signed your name with an X and sealed the contract by kissing that X. It seems this is how the practice of putting an X to signify a kiss on your Valentine’s Card or letter to a loved one came about.

 

Go here for more information:  https://www.seeker.com/kissings-long-history-a-timeline-1767196852.html

 

So, this I all learnt because it has always fascinated me how the touching certain parts of the body by the one you love can bring so much pleasure, and I was curious about the simple kiss and got to wondering who touched lips for the first time and thought to themselves, “That was pretty good.” I cannot imagine the cave

men, depicted hauling their mates around by their hair, coming up with it. Now we know—it was most likely a mother feeding her offspring by mouth that started it all. I wonder if the Vikings found pleasure in kissing. That’s research for another day.

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