Last night as Nathan and I were going to sleep, I realized we hadn't kissed all day. We're an affectionate family, and it's rare for us to walk by each other- including the kids- without some kind of squeeze, so I was bothered, as much as you can be when half-awake. Nathan falls asleep really fast, and he was already on his way out, but I said, "I don't think we kissed today."
Then he sat up and kissed me, a sweet kiss that he put some thought into. It was like our first kiss all over again. Except better, because our first kiss was actually kind of awful. (I claim responsibilty for that- I was so nervous! This amazing guy actually wants to kiss me?)
Then he laid back down and was totally out in thirty seconds.
Yesterday we sopped up gallons of water off our floor together without a harsh word, I watched him hold our feverish youngest as I ran out the door to go to my Cub Scout meeting, and he hardly even got mad at me over a $40 library fine (I'm still going to find that missing book, so it's actually half that!). Four kids, eleven and three-quarters years of marriage later, we're still capable of a "first kiss".
As a writer, I'm always on the look out for what makes strong emotions, the tics people have, what motivates them. We can only write what we understand, after all. But I won't be writing about that moment and turning it into someone else's scene. It's all ours.