For whatever reason, the two of us cannot seem to remember what we did before we ended up at the RumRunner, but we both know we had already been out for most of the night.

It was coming…the kiss…you knew it and I knew it.

I don’t think we were there for thirty minutes…you bought me another beer, (and the irony kills me), and I didn’t even finish it. We played ONE game.

And somehow you were up above me, looking into my eyes, and looking at my mouth. And I wasn’t going to wait any longer. And I didn’t.

It was the beginning of us. The kiss that started it all. The kiss that continued all night, until we were laughing in the sunrise, and rushing back home to go to work. It was the moment we became US instead of Jon and then Maria. After that moment, we were never the same.

And you never stopped kissing me. In the parking lot of the RumRunner, at the park that night under the gazebo, on my doorstep, in the truck, watching lightening and thunder, in the rain, at the RedSox game in 2004, at Disneyland, in our kitchen, at my work, in the hospital, before they pulled Weslee out.

We always kissed. It was our favorite past time. And we always had one for each other every single day. It was our “hi!” and the preamble to our “I love you”

We would play musical make out, and try to make it past three songs on the radio or iPod. We would try and watch movies, but 20 minutes into them, we were making out and the movie was long forgotten.

What a perfect kisser you were. I don’t think there is a man in this world who can compare with his own. For me, yours was the perfect kiss.

Had I known that you would leave me, three years from the summer I came home for good, I would have kissed you more. I would have turned off the computer, and the t.v. and we’d spend hours, just kissing, and savoring one of our best activities.

I’m afraid of what I would trade just to be able to kiss you again. But I wish I could. I miss you, Jonathan.

Happy Anniversary.

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