It’s Christmastime, and the mistletoe is lurking about. A lot of us have fond memories of kisses under the mistletoe. Whether by a friend, a lover, a perfect stranger, or even your cat, you remember that moment. They’re different, they’re special.
The kiss that I remember most was, in fact, one that I didn’t give. And it’s the one I most regret. When I was ten, our teacher had the bright idea of hanging some mistletoe underneath the doorway into the classroom. We all avoided it like the noxious weed it was, staying away from the center of the doorway, just as you would expect typical cootie-infested children to behave.
Then the last day of class came before we were to go home for the holidays, and all of us students were lined up inside the door to leave for the buses, just waiting for the bell to ring. I was at the front of the line, near the doorway, with some of my friends. We were being silly, daring each other to get under the door where the mistletoe dangled overhead. Then, contrary to typical ‘Carrie’ fashion, I grew a pair of balls all of a sudden and moved to stand underneath it.
“Oooooh,” go the other 5th graders.
Then Scott, who I had a slight crush on at the time, proceeds to come up and stand under the mistletoe as well. I still can see the image in my mind plain as day: he’s a bit taller than me, all grins, arching back his neck to make sure he was right under the plant.
I almost did it. I just about leaned over to give a peck on that neck of his. Almost, almost, almost. But I hesitated, just one moment.
Then the bell rang, and we all forgot about that stupid green weed as we rushed to the buses. Even I was glad to be let off the hook.
A month later, Scott was dead. Killed in a plane crash. I was away for the weekend, and didn’t even know about it until after the funeral took place. I was back in class, there was an empty seat beside me, and I was one kiss short of a happy memory.
And now it’s thirteen years later, and I still find myself thinking about that moment, one of the few regrets in my life. But what can I do, that moment can’t rewrite itself. It can, however, remind me that moments like those are fleeting, you never know how such a small little thing can become so important later. At least I learned something out of it. Sneak all the little kisses you can get.