Run, Forrest, run!

Published 4:56 am Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Driving home from church this evening the pale yellow orb of a moon followed me. I watched enthralled at the mischievous way it peeked out from behind trees along the roadway.

It was as if its sole purpose was to light my way. I have watched that same moon through the seasons of life. The constancy and beauty of God’s creation never fails to stir something deep inside.

It was there when I squeezed the last bit of fun from my outdoor playground as daylight slipped away. When my childhood gave way to teenage years that same moon watched and winked as my youthful lips haltingly received my first real kiss. I’ll regress in hopes of giving you a chuckle and tell of an earlier kiss.

At six years of age I walked home from the small country school in my community with one of my classmates. His name was Don. I don’t remember thinking that Don was particularly good looking. At that age I don’t think I had any idea of whether a person was attractive or not, but he was a boy.

I, being the curious kind, wondered what all the fuss was about kissing and decided to do a little experimenting. I thought that perhaps if Don carried my books that might be a prerequisite to a kiss. I’m sure the thought was probably the farthest thing from his mind in light of events yet to be told.

I practically shoved my books into his arms. Don shrugged and continued walking. He didn’t seem to get the hint that we were working up to a kiss. The sun shone brightly that day and danced on his freckled cheek.

It looked like a great place to plant a kiss so I puckered up and went for it. The next thing I knew Don was running home like a deer with a shotgun pointed his way. Now, I really didn’t understand what all the kissing fuss was about, but it didn’t seem so awful that he would have to run away!

Next, came my dilemma. I had to study spelling words, but Don had them. I saw him run up onto the porch of his big, white house in the middle of town. He slammed the door quite firmly, and I certainly didn’t want to knock on that same front door so I strolled on home by myself.

When my Mama saw that I didn’t have any books I told her that Don had forgotten to give them to me when we walked home. I somehow left out the part about the reason he forgot. My big brother retrieved my books, and I was able to study my spelling words.

I don’t remember much about my classmate, Don, after our brief interlude. Kissing had been a very underwhelming experience. I lost interest in romance and went back to my tomboy ways of catching frogs and snails.

And you were privy to this story … why? Because the moon dancing through the trees brought me back to the sun shining on that freckled face so many years ago.

Jan Penton Miller can be reached at