No doubt about it, Hubby and I are kissers. We kiss often, good morning kisses, good night kisses, hello kisses, goodbye kisses, and kisses just for kissing sake. Partly, it is because we are still somewhat newlyweds. But I like to think we will always be kissers.
We kiss in public, at dinner table in restaurants, in darkened movie theaters, at our friends homes, at the park, at red lights. Usually, just pecks, on the lips, or the cheek, or sometimes the forehead. But every single kiss has meaning. Every kiss counts.
We relish each kiss we have. This may come as a surprise, since we were 30 when we started dating, but I did not kiss Hubby until we had dated for over a month. Maybe it is because deep down, I knew this would be my very last first kiss, or maybe because I knew someone as special as him deserved something more than the obligatory peck at the end of a first date. All I know is, that first kiss, and every one since then, have been magical, and made me the richest woman on earth.
Several mornings a week, I am up and out of the house before Hubby is awake. Each time, I kiss his sleepy cheek before I walk out of the bedroom. And each time, he smiles in his sleep. I commented on this to him, and he swears he has no memory or control over this. Having seen how out of it he is, even in the first few minutes of being awake, I believe him. So, when he smiles in his sleep, because I kissed him, it warms my heart to know that every part of his being relishes my kisses, even when he is sleeping.
Part of the reason I kiss him, and make sure to tell him daily how much I love, respect, honor, and appreciate him, is because one never knows what will happen. I want to make sure he is never in doubt of my devotion. I want to thank him for all he does for me, even the little things (like 5 am runs to get ginger ale for my upset tummy), because I do not want him to feel taken for granted.
So, Hubby, I love you. Hurry home for a kiss.