Chapter Text
“All night I stretched my arms across him, rivers of blood, the dark woods, singing with all my skin and bone ''Please keep him safe. Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces.'' Makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.” -Saying your Names, Richard Siken.
She stares at him, standing underneath the blazing sun, and feels an overwhelming urge to kiss him again, feel his lips on her own, spreading warmth through her entire body. His kisses make her feel alive, ignite something in her that reminds her of the tenacity she’d once promised her dead father to live by.
She can’t remember all the kisses they’ve shared over the years, memory deteriorated by age makes it impossible, yet the ones she does remember are in technicolor, so vivid and loud they almost resemble a much-cherished children’s cartoon, constantly playing on the edge of her subconsciousness. And much like watching reruns of one’s favorite old cartoons, they bring her unadulterated naïve joy, seeping the same warmth into her as his kisses do.
Their children had asked her once when she knew, for sure that their papà had fallen in love with her and she’d given an appropriate parent-like response, replying with a story about their papà secretly coming to Korea just to meet her. Vincenzo had given her a look then, raising an amused eyebrow at her obvious sugarcoating of events and she’d stifled a laugh and raised her own brow in return, silently asking if he could do any better.
Their children had never asked again, quickly growing from four-and-seven-year-olds enamored with their parent’s love to teenagers and adults embarrassed by their frequent displays of affection. She’d never gotten a chance to tell them the exact story and a part of her likes it that way, likes that her inner catalogue of their most intimate kisses holds a place just in her memory; a gift to herself played in moments like today when the memory of his kisses is the only thing she needs to live.
Looking at him these days automatically sets the reel in motion, and she lets herself be at the mercy of nostalgia so overwhelming, tears gather in her eyes.