The Kiss | Stories from the Street

The kiss lasted no more than a matter of seconds but that kiss was to have a profound impact upon my life. For those few moments time stood still and I was suddenly aware of deep things that I had always desired, family, acceptance and belonging.

It was 1991 and Christmas was a week away. I was at Norwich train station waiting for my girlfriend whom I hadn’t seen for 3 weeks. I was filled with the heady anticipation that comes with those early days of a new relationship.

I have always enjoyed people watching. I get a kick out of seeing peoples reactions to different situations and how they interact with others. Train journeys and train stations are a favourite of mine, for instance, watching a fellow passenger response to the words, “excuse me, is that seat taken?” The person seated smiles and says that the seat is indeed free and of course it’s no problem for them to move their laptop, umbrella and empty McDonalds packaging from the seat beside them but their eyes say ” don’t you understand that I need my space?”

Another is watching people greeting one another on station platforms. Pecks on cheeks, passionate kisses and the cinematic running into another’s arms. The interesting ones are when the extrovert and introvert collide, one goes to shake hands, the other goes for the hug and awkwardness ensues. I was a hand shaker but I am slowly becoming a hugger.

As I watched the comings and goings at Norwich station I saw a middle-aged couple looking with expectancy toward a group of passengers whom had just disembarked from their train. I was instantly caught by their sense of anticipation so I was curious as to whom it was they were waiting for. As I watched I saw a young guy around the same age as me walking over toward them. Their faces were illuminated with huge grins of recognition and the closeness that only comes with families. Mum, Dad and son reunited for Christmas.

The mum got in there first with a hug that said it all, “this is my boy”. Then there was dad. I assumed that the hand would come out for a firm father and son handshake, the other hand on the son’s shoulder and the dad saying something like “Hello son, good journey? Mum’s been getting your room ready”. I could only guess at what father and sons said to each other. However, the dad’s response to his son’s arrival was captivated me. First came a hug and then the one thing I would never have anticipated. It came out of nowhere and it genuinely shocked me, more so than if the father had greeted the son with a right hook to the chin.

The father kissed the son. Even as I write this 18 years later the memory floods me with emotions. The father kissed the son.

He hugged him, drew him close to himself and kissed him on the cheek. A kiss with no embarrassment or need to be disguised in any way, a kiss that was not awkward or contrived. It was the kiss of a man who unashamedly loved his son in a way that I had never experienced or encountered before.

When I people watch I can usually disguise my voyeurism because I hate being caught out when I’m watching them. But this time I just stared, my mouth open, my body frozen. A thousand thoughts swarmed around in my head in the space of seconds. In that kiss I had witnessed something that I had never experienced or ever would experience as a son. I had the feeling that somewhere in my life I had lost out on something. Can you feel the loss of something you never had? I think you can. There was also overwhelming sense of determination that is still with me today that if I were to have my own family then my children would have a father who unashamedly loved his children and, despite a childhood devoid of fatherly devotion, would kiss and cuddle his Children extravagantly. I married the girl that I was waiting for on that platform just before Christmas 1991 and we have 2 amazing daughters. I kiss them a lot and each kiss makes up for what I lost as a child.

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