Dear Diary,

I am at a complete loss. It is a wonder that I am able to hold this quill in my hand. For I am trembling and truly do not know what to think of what happened tonight... I’ve been kissed! And not by just any man, but by none other than John Edington. I’ve known him since I was old enough to make mud pies in my father’s cherry orchard. I never thought that John would ever forget himself in such a way.

Truth be told, I have never taken him very seriously. I’ve always thought of him as a bit of a prankster, a witty knave. He’s been ever so silly and foolish around me. He’s even at times called me his princess and himself my fool. There have been several occasions when I believed he thought I was put expressly on this earth so that I might laugh at his jokes.

However, last night made me change my opinion. The kiss he gave me had quite a toe curling effect. It left me quite breathless and flushed. And if I had not known that my corsets weren’t tight, I would have sworn that I was about to swoon into a faint. It was like having sunstroke right there in the middle of Uncle Frederick’s house. But outside it was cool and a full harvest moon shone down upon us from the open bay window.

John was very brazen about it too... First, he innocently brought me glasses of rum punch and we exchanged the usual polite banter that one does. You know, about his latest craze for steam inventions, especially horseless carriages, and how he’s mad about anything that smells of grease and made of iron. And he politely asked me what I planned to do after Christmas, now that I’ve graduated from Miss Ella’s Finishing School.

It was then that I sprung upon him my good news, about my uncle’s decision that I should go to Washington D. C, with him and Aunt Lucinda. And how we planned to be gone almost an entire year and stay with my cousins in Virginia. Thus giving me an ample opportunity to mix in polite society and meet eligible gentlemen.

Now that I reflect upon the events leading up to our kiss, was it my imagination or did the twinkle in his hazel eyes go out when I said that? And could it be his smile diminished a bit? What I’m meaning to say, dear diary, is could it be that John Edington is carrying a torch for me?

No, it couldn’t be true! As I said, he’s known me all my life. Until now he has never given the slightest indication that he thought me in that way. I mustn’t develop flights of fancy over this.

But mind, tonight I did look rather nice. The new evening gown, the one mother helped me order from Frisco, is made of the loveliest evergreen satin. It’s lined with rich dark velvet and yards upon yards of the prettiest lace you ever did see. It makes a most delightful swishing sound when I dance. And the bustle in the back trails becomingly down like a rippling fountain in a river of satin and lace. I adore it, and felt like someone in a fairy tale wearing it. And I received several fulsome compliments from other gentlemen present, too.

I had Betsy, my aunt’s maid, help me with my hair. She swept it up in that new style that those Gibson ladies wear. And for a bit of Christmas cheer, she entwined a small garland of white roses in it. I don’t mean to boast, dear diary, but I do think I looked a pretty picture.

Now back to the kissing... When I was becoming a little bit tipsy, John asked me for a waltz. And waltz we did, right into the alcove, where hung a fresh bough of mistletoe. A bough, I must add, I do not remember hanging there.

Thank heavens no one spied us behind the red drapes. It makes my cheeks flush, thinking back upon it. I am afraid I made quite a cake of myself, hanging onto him like I did. And was it my imagination or did he forget himself too? I mean, when he wrapped his strong mechanic’s arms about my waist, was he... Could it be possible, that the reason he did so was because he forgot himself as well?

Dear diary, as you can see, I am most befuddled by all this. Yes, I am absolutely, quite splendidly at a loss as to what has come over my childhood friend and myself.

The Mistletoe Kiss of 1910 -2 (Continue)