Heart Matters on Valentine's Day 2

[Guest guest]

We met at noon the next day at Orphan Andy's, a diner specializing in

hearty, home style comfort food from the 50's and 60's. There are

even small juke boxes at each booth.

Steve and I were both in an upbeat mood, partly because of the lovely

late-winter spring-like day unfolding before us, but mostly because

we were happy to see one another. We ordered our food and talked

about life. Steve, only 52 years old, told me that he'd just retired

because he wanted to enjoy life. We spoke of the meaning of life and

work. He told me that he'd been a single father, having raised his

son after he and his ex-wife parted ways many years ago. He was

thrilled to talk about his grand-daughter of just five months.

I showed him my tattoos explaining the meanings without going into

the connection to my gastric bypass surgery as I wasn't sure it was

the right time to go into all that. He took my biceps in his hands,

gently caressed my tattoos and said that they were beautiful. I

mentioned that his hands were surprisingly soft. Then with a raised

eyebrow and an evil grin he said, " I hope you'll let me lick your

tattoos later. " We both laughed.

We decided to take a walk in Golden Gate Park, which was just a short

bus ride away. As we exited Orphan Andy's, I put my hand on the back

of his neck. " Is it OK for me to do that? " I asked. " Oh yes. You

can do that and a lot more, " he replied flirtatiously.

When we reached Castro and 18th, the heart of the Castro District, we

looked at each other and smiled. We held each other's gaze for a

moment, suspended in a trance-like moment where the sounds and people

around us faded into a haze. Steve put his left hand on the back of

my neck and drew me close to him. We kissed, and then kissed some

more. How lucky are we to have a place where, under the sun's warm

rays, we can share a first kiss in the open where no one would even

notice, let alone care.

Steve held me tightly, our chests and stomach pressed together. I

put my head on his shoulder, resting my face in the nape of his

neck. We both breathed in deeply, a shared sigh where the barriers

come down, souls begin to touch and hearts begin to beat in unison.

I drank in his scent—the freshness of his shirt mingled with the

clean soapy smell of his skin.

For a moment my thoughts went back to two and a half years ago, to my

surgery date. Who'd have ever believed that my path would have led

me here? I certainly couldn't have foreseen this turn of events.

But I just allowed myself to drift back into the present to enjoy

Steve's presence, his embrace, his kiss.

We held hands on the bus, enjoying the beauty of the day and the

charm of San Francisco's architectural delights. We rode through the

Haight Ashbury District, and Steve told me that his home was on Page

Street, in Upper Haight. We got off the bus near the Conservatory of

Flowers, that " gem of n architecture " that looks more like an

exotic palace than living museum of rare flowers and tropical plants.

To be continued...

[Guest guest]

We met at noon the next day at Orphan Andy's, a diner specializing in

hearty, home style comfort food from the 50's and 60's. There are

even small juke boxes at each booth.

Steve and I were both in an upbeat mood, partly because of the lovely

late-winter spring-like day unfolding before us, but mostly because

we were happy to see one another. We ordered our food and talked

about life. Steve, only 52 years old, told me that he'd just retired

because he wanted to enjoy life. We spoke of the meaning of life and

work. He told me that he'd been a single father, having raised his

son after he and his ex-wife parted ways many years ago. He was

thrilled to talk about his grand-daughter of just five months.

I showed him my tattoos explaining the meanings without going into

the connection to my gastric bypass surgery as I wasn't sure it was

the right time to go into all that. He took my biceps in his hands,

gently caressed my tattoos and said that they were beautiful. I

mentioned that his hands were surprisingly soft. Then with a raised

eyebrow and an evil grin he said, " I hope you'll let me lick your

tattoos later. " We both laughed.

We decided to take a walk in Golden Gate Park, which was just a short

bus ride away. As we exited Orphan Andy's, I put my hand on the back

of his neck. " Is it OK for me to do that? " I asked. " Oh yes. You

can do that and a lot more, " he replied flirtatiously.

When we reached Castro and 18th, the heart of the Castro District, we

looked at each other and smiled. We held each other's gaze for a

moment, suspended in a trance-like moment where the sounds and people

around us faded into a haze. Steve put his left hand on the back of

my neck and drew me close to him. We kissed, and then kissed some

more. How lucky are we to have a place where, under the sun's warm

rays, we can share a first kiss in the open where no one would even

notice, let alone care.

Steve held me tightly, our chests and stomach pressed together. I

put my head on his shoulder, resting my face in the nape of his

neck. We both breathed in deeply, a shared sigh where the barriers

come down, souls begin to touch and hearts begin to beat in unison.

I drank in his scent—the freshness of his shirt mingled with the

clean soapy smell of his skin.

For a moment my thoughts went back to two and a half years ago, to my

surgery date. Who'd have ever believed that my path would have led

me here? I certainly couldn't have foreseen this turn of events.

But I just allowed myself to drift back into the present to enjoy

Steve's presence, his embrace, his kiss.

We held hands on the bus, enjoying the beauty of the day and the

charm of San Francisco's architectural delights. We rode through the

Haight Ashbury District, and Steve told me that his home was on Page

Street, in Upper Haight. We got off the bus near the Conservatory of

Flowers, that " gem of n architecture " that looks more like an

exotic palace than living museum of rare flowers and tropical plants.

To be continued...