Magic Kiss. [New Glimpses of Faith - Journal]
Magic kiss.
(February 9, 2009)
When I was little. I dunno. Like three or four, I'd go outside and sit on the wall in front of the apartment block, and all the little kids would come out to play as soon as they'd gotten their stomachs full with breakfast. And they'd come along on their little three wheeler bikes and ask me if I wanted to race with them. And I'd always shake my head and bring my legs up onto the wall and cross them over and say it wasn't my thing. And then they'd bike off again, their little chubby legs peddling away in slow motion. They used to ask every morning for weeks, until they just didn't any more, and every time I done the same thing and said the same reason why. See, it wasn't that I didn't want to join in, but, well, couldn't exactly say I didn't have a little bike of my own or they probably would have laughed at me. So.... I just watched them instead and wished I had one of those bikes with three wheels, a bell and with the peddles attached to the front wheel....
Anyway, so I just used to sit and watch them have their races every day instead, and you could guarantee, at least every day, before the mums would call them in for their lunch, that one of them would cycle down the sidewalk the wrong way, get their back tire caught in one of the cracks and no sooner did I get a chance to blink then I'd see them flat on their face. Always made me wince, even though I saw it coming every time, and not because they ended up with the bike on their back, but, because when they fell their pudgy faces would screw up, and their little mouths would open so wide. But the thing was, no sound would come out for ages; they were in that much pain. But then, while I was holding my breath, just like they were, I'd suddenly jump when they did start screaming, then all I had to do was turn my head and within ten seconds the kids mum would come running out of the house.
And the kid. Still didn't move, just laid there and screamed, half on the sidewalk and half in the street with this ridiculous multi-colored bike with plastic wheels on their backs. Waiting for their mum. And mum would come running up and take the bike off and scoop them up, stand them in front of them and look them over to make sure they were ok. And there'd be me with my hands over my ears because the kid would still be screaming, watching with rapt attention as the mum inspected the kids scraped hands, and mostly one of their knees. And I dunno, back then I guess I was really squeamish, because I remember one of their knees would always have a great big cut in it, and blood would be trickling down their leg, and this kid would just be squirming and trying to get on their mums lap while screaming the street down. And then it would come, the bit that always fascinated me; the mum would wipe the gravel off the kids’ palms and bring their hands up to her face and kiss each one ever so softly.
Now that always got the kids attention, and the screams suddenly turned to sobs then sniffles, and the words that left her lips, I always missed those. Wondered what they always said though that got them to give her a little feeble nod in response.... Then she would scoop them up properly in her arms then after delivering a kiss to the forehead of the injured kid, and then, as if they hadn't even been hurt at all; the second they had their little arms around mums neck and hers were wrapped around their little bodies, they'd stop crying. Like someone had flicked a switch or pressed the mute button.
And they'd be me, hands in my lap and looking down at my palms and wiggling my fingers, trying to imagine my hands being scraped and my knee cut to bits. In that much pain that I'd feel the need to hold my breath before I let out the loudest scream ever. Tried it a few times to, but mum never came running.....
So I was left to figure it out on my own. 'Cause to start off with I didn't get why they cried at all. Yeah there was the pain thing, but whenever I hurt myself I just got back up and brushed myself down and I was off again, doing God knows what. But with these kids, everyday it was the same. Their mum would come to the rescue, and take away their pain in a jiffy, and carry them off while she stroked their hair.
And that's what I didn't get. How they could do it so quick. Take the pain away. First I thought it was the words she spoke to them, but one day when a kid's bike wheel got caught on the sidewalk right in front of my wall, well, soon figured out it wasn't that. I know, you're probably thinking I'm stupid or slow or thick, but I really didn't get it. Not for a long while. A long while spent watching these kids race every day. Then it hit me. I knew what it was. It was that little kiss. The one the mum delivered to the kids forehead with closed eyes. That's what always stopped them from crying. One magic kiss to the forehead complete with a loving look in the eyes of mum to her kid afterwards before she would scoop the kid up into her arms and carry them inside.
Guess she patched them up then because after a while they'd come back out again with a plaster on their knee and a big grin on their face.
Still fascinated me though, how just one kiss could stop a kid from being in a mess load of pain. Guess if I'd been one of those kids I'd understand it more. But I dunno, after I figured it out, for some reason part of me always believed that a kiss to the forehead would heal anything. Stupid I know huh? But I was a kid back then.
But lately. When I wasn't expecting it, I got one of those kisses. Last one. Feels like forever ago now..... Those kinda kisses, well they just made me feel like one of those kids must have felt. Not hurt, but special and safe and...well....loved.....
Should probably go all cynical now, and tell all you dreamers out there that there's no such thing as magic kisses. I mean, crazy huh? Just one kiss could take away so much pain and make everything better again.....
Just one kiss...
Would have to be one helluva powerful kiss.......
©(S-O-R) S&W.