We were almost done with our nursery when this happened.
In fact we were through our first form and it was beside the chapel this happened.
S Vijay was almost way ahead of us in his knowledge for he started the topic. He pouted his fat unshapely lips and declared, “Who knows how to kiss like my dad does mom?”
Alan edged closer to me and mumbled, “He is talking dirty”
I edged closer too and said , “let’s get away”
And we ran to our favourite bench, a repaired convent blue painted nobody wants to sit bench.
And there Alan, the true christian told me in a stern way, “ nobody kisses till we marry at church. Only your husband can kiss you.”
I nod my head in solemn agreement and then perhaps he was overcome with emotion for he planted a kiss on my forehead.
It was a very solemn kiss and it laid the wonderful, never dead still idea that a kiss would happen only through a husband.
Sister MK watching us held her white veil in the wind and smiled her immaculate smile as if she had just traced the geography of a kiss.
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