Sometimes a Kiss is Just a Kiss

 

Sometimes a Kiss is Just a Kiss

Noel Laflin

1-10-22

A friend of mine recently posted a picture of mistletoe high atop a sycamore tree, which got me to thinking about the time my roommate Marilyn thought that we could make some extra Christmas cash by finding some fresh mistletoe ourselves, breaking it up into small chunks, wrap it in cellophane, tie a bright red ribbon at the neck, and sell it at the swap meet for fifty-cents a bag.

“Sell a hundred bags and we’re rich enough to buy gifts for everyone,” she reasoned.

So, off we went in search of mistletoe.

Some was eventually located on a lonely country lane, knocked down by some forgotten contrivance, retrieved, brought home, bagged, and tightly fastened with bright red ribbon.

I think we sold five bags at the Saturday swap meet later that week. The entrance/seller’s fee cost more than our take-in that day.

The upside was, however, that all of our friends and family got sincere hugs, and small red-ribboned cellophane bags as a reminder to kiss beneath the mistletoe they now had as gifts.