The happiest memory I have is 6 hours long. It was my last day in Shaker and we were sleeping at some friend of my parent’s house because ours was already sold. After a long walk from a Ben & Jerry’s close to our old house, my dad told me to get in his car; full of boxes of stuff ready for the long journey to Maryland. He had somehow arranged for me to spend my final night with my girlfriend.

The two of us were left alone at the house I was staying. Technically the eldest son of the family that lived here was supposed to “supervise” us but ten minutes after the parents and other family members left some of his friends came over and took him somewhere. Witch King and I spent the entire evening in the guest bedroom with Tiger. He was protesting the move by hiding under the bed but over the stretch of time we were in the room we would hear him purr or stick out his head. We spent the entire time on the couch looking at the king or queen size bed, I never can tell the difference. By sheer coincidence she was wearing my favorite skirt, something I never told her. It is black with floral stitching and it looks a lot like my skirt, only longer and less frilly. The similarity was not a coincidence. Her shoes were just black converse only the left one had a purple lace and the right a black lace. Her shirt was purple and dark blue stripes and she had a black knit looking jacket that she took of half an hour into our time together and laid it on the left armrest of the couch. Her long hair was tied tightly in a ponytail and the tips were dyed black about two to three inches. I called this her Kitsune look because it reminded me of a fox’s tail. She also wore one of her softer finger knit scarves around her waist and would periodically fiddle with the end.

I’d like to say we made love or cuddled; hell, I would like to say we held hands, but we couldn’t. I loved her hands; they were soft and smooth, delicate and small. The size was the only reason I didn’t hold them more. If we interlocked our fingers my fingers would be stuck in place and trigger my O. C. D. need to be able to move. If I held her hand with all my fingers together she would squeeze my hand tight causing the same problem. I did love touching her, whenever her hand rested upon me she would always stroke whatever she was resting on with her thumb and her tight grip made me feel like she would never let go.

All we did was talk, about this and that. I got up and paced as we talked, nervous. I wanted to ask her something so I knelt before her. Sadly, my fight or flight instinct took hold of me because I was too nervous and hid. Only problem was that only place to hide was in her skirt. Looking back on it now I could have looked at her panties but to be honest I wasn’t interested in that. When I came out she was blushing but never actually put up any resistance with my presence in her skirt.

I took a deep breath and, in the most awkward way possible, I asked if I could kiss her. If I were to rank the most awkward things I have ever done with my mouth, besides having a very long list, the second item would be asking for my first kiss. Of course number one would be the kiss itself. I could write pages on that kiss but that is not what makes this memory so wonderful. When we separated after both of our first kisses and I opened my eyes I saw something beyond words. People tell me things like the Grand Canyon or artwork is beautiful, but I can look at a picture and that is as good as the real thing to me. If my eyes were damaged, and I could only see one thing for the rest of my life, I would want it to be that moment after that kiss. If that were to happen I would live in a world far more beautiful that any you could live in.

After that we went outside on a porch to look at that starry sky. The theory was that that it would put a romantic cap on the evening and, being a true romantic at heart, I couldn’t pass up a full moon on a night like tonight. Unfortunately, whether due to low clouds or light pollution or whatever, there were no stars that night. The moon was clearly visible and bright and, not to waste a gift, I invited Witch King to dance. Of course, because fate doesn’t seem to like me very much, she didn’t know how. I quickly taught her a simple box step, letting her be the man because it is a lot easier to learn when you lead and start by stepping forwards. After that ridiculousness, we kissed once more under the moon. I looked her in the eyes and asked her one last request and, without flinching, she agreed and ruined me. Forever.