Someone once told me that eating a pair of cherries is like sharing a prolonged kiss with someone you love. The sensual fruit, red, round and a little sinful, connects to a stem and attaches to a friend, hangs flawlessly between your fingers. Like a great kiss, the pair brings memories of the past and makes new ones for the future.

Biting into the first cherry is like touching tentatively the lips of a lover, soft, new and full of promises; afraid of the unknown, the initial taste is hesitant, foreign. The teeth breaks through the fragile skin and a swirl of juices flutter over the tongue, whispering sweet thoughts that need not be spoken. The first subtle taste of flesh brings uncertainty but excitement builds as the entire fruit becomes enveloped in your now curious mouth. The tongue learns to explore, to taste, to learn; devouring the rest of the fruit and in feeling the hard pit against your tongue, you’re reminded that the novelty has concluded, in a flush of perfect balance, tangy and sweet, the end to a perfect first kiss. Perhaps, as you taste the first of a pair, you will remember sitting in a darkened theater, your face close to his, your lips even closer. You see yourself lean in, eyes dimming until your lips find what you were looking at and light dances in front of your eyes as the touch of another mouth, soft and gentle, connects with yours.

As you move on to the second cherry, you find that there is familiarity. Unlike the first time, the lips know what to do; they move on their own, without effort, without thinking. The tongue is not surprised by the citric flavor of the flesh, but just as pleased by its sweetness. You now notice the texture of a kiss, velvety and ever so soothing. You taste something more than what the cherry offers. The sunshine and spring, the soil and the air, the stories behind each bulbous fruit lingers on the tip of the tongue. And on him, you taste his sorrows, his fears, his joys and his tears, each emotion bravely exposed through the caress of his mouth. You know him, who he is, what he likes, experience claiming the place of novelty. You discover that there is no hesitation, only appreciation for such a delicious wonder. You reach, once again, to the center of the cherry, the pit still hard as ever, but not as daunting. The fruit is eaten and the kiss has ended. But you know that there will be more; for when you look at the bowl filled with similar pairs, your eyes brighten with the prospect of many more kisses. And you eagerly pick up another pair, a different one, a new experience. And in your lover, you’ll find another feeling, a different story, a new him.