Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Today is March 3. The third day of the third month. It is also the birthday of a childhood friend I once had. We were pals through grade school and jr high. Funny, while I can barley recall what he looked like I can’t forget this date. Then again, I remember this date more due to seeing a naked woman for the first time.

We were kids, maybe 9 or 10 years old? Like most boys growing up in the late 70’s we were obsessed with all things Star Wars and had only a vague inkling of our emerging sexuality. His family was transplants from California, part of a growing number of folks who were migrating to housing developments on what used to be open farmland on the outskirts of Spokane. Still sporting a semi permanent bronze shade and a sort of unidentifiable “coolness”, I would later speculate that his parents were probably swingers. Of course at the time I had no idea such things existed, just that his dad had flown jet liners and his mom was the coolest mom of the pack and the envy of all the other moms.

It was during a birthday sleep over, about a half dozen of us were camped out in the basement of their split level for the night, doing all the stupid and fun things that boys do when left un attended. Now I’m sure the perverts in reading this will immediately think something raunchy, but keep in mind we were just on the cusp of pubescence. I’m pretty sure we had an extended debate on who was cooler, Luke or Han. The next morning, being the farm kid I was, I was up with the dawn and ready to start my day. Unfortunately the rest of my city dwelling pals were still fast asleep so I figured I’d head upstairs and get a drink of water. Little did I know what was waiting for me.

Cresting the stairs from the basement and turning the corner, there she was. My best friend’s mom, naked. Upon seeing me, she spun around and looked at me with a start. “Oh, you are up already!” I just sorta stared and stammered. Now she could have shouted at me, or scolded me, but instead she turned her shoulders and stood there for a second, starting back at me. Funny how a tiny fraction of time can leave such an impression.

Sure I’d smuggled my fair share of playboys by then so I had a decent idea, in theory, what a naked woman looked like, but no real first hand experience. That was till that very moment. Frozen still where I stood, I took it all in. Soft shoulders meeting prominent collar bones leading to her breasts. Small, yet prominent. Her fading California tanned body, toned lines of stomach as they came down to her thick pubic mound, dark curls holding untold mysteries.

Un fucking forgettable, even to this day.

Then, in a flash the moment was over, she calmly informed me that I should go back downstairs now and not come up till she called the rest of us to breakfast. I never spoke of this to my friends, she and I never had any contact that would be considered even mildly inappropriate by even the most puritan standards in the 10 odd years that I knew their family. Just that one moment.

Funny, today I catch myself doing it from time to time. Catch myself staring at my lover’s naked form from across the room. Silent, head cocked to one side just taking it all in, the wonder of her form. The mysteries held between her thighs and the beauty of it all.