3 Kisses

Every night before he goes to bed, my Dad indulges (or so I've been told). In the time and space between p.j.'s and toothbrush, he begins his love affair. I can just see him leaning back in his recliner, snuggling his heavy throw blanket up under his bare arms, channel surfing -- waiting for just the right moment. They are lined delicately to his left on the side table amid the magazines and day old newspapers. The shiny silver wrappers create the illusion of a miniature fortress. The blue and white stripped papers stick up like flags at high seas. He smiles as he lifts the tiny morsel to his mouth. He lets it melt slowly, the chocolate leaving a soft film of residue on his tongue long after he's swallowed. Like any ocean wave, the taste recedes but lo there are two more waiting. Just as patiently, just as particularly he enjoys the remaining candies.
Just enough.
3 kisses.