그건 오래전 일이었다. 최근에야 기억에 떠올랐다. 평생에 오로지 한 번 있었던 일이었다.
환도 후 회기동 후생주택에 살 때였다. 날씨가 추웠던 2월 어느 날, 나는 집에 들어오는 데 문안에서 어머니를 만났다.
후생주택 낮은 나무 담에다 집의 문이라야 안이나 밖에서 고리만 열면 낮은 문이 열려서 머리를 숙이고 들락날락하던 문이었다.
문고리를 열고 들어가니 어머니가 방에서 나오셨기에, 나는 “어머니, 나 합격했어요.”하니까 어머니는 대견하셔서 갑자기 내 볼에다 키스를 해 주셨다.
나는 꿈도 못 꾸었던 이 돌발사태에 그만 쑥스럽고 무안하기까지 해서 “어머니두, 참, 무얼...이런...” 하고 혼자 중얼 거렸을 뿐이었다.
그도 그럴 것이 키스라면 로미오와 줄리엣 같은 로맨틱한 연인사이에나 있을 것이지, 노인 어머니가 다 자란 아들에게 키스를 하시다니!
평생에 처음이고 그 후에도 그런 기억은 없었다. 내가 갓 났을 때 어머니가 뽀뽀해 주셨는지는 모른다. 하여간 이 일은 내 기억에 남았던 유일한 키스였다. 그러고 잊어버렸다.
최근에야 우연히 그 생각이 나서 이 글을 쓴다. 이제 그 생각을 하면서 혼자 웃었다. 어머니께 내가 대견 스러웠기 때문이었던 모양이다.

추가 한마디
그런데 내가 이 글을 올렸을 때 운영자께서 내게 질문을 하였다. 내가 어머니께 키스를 한 적이 있느냐고? 내가 어머니께 키스를 하다니, 그런 생각은 운영자의 문의를 들을 때까지 해 본적이 없었다. 꿈도 못 꾸었다.
어머니가 엄하셨기 때문이 아니라, 나로서 너무나 쑥스럽지 않겠는가? 그렇다면 어머니를 지금이라도 만날 수 있다면 키스를 할 건가? 지금도 역시 못하겠다. 그게 전혀 불경한 행위이기 때문이 아니라, 나도 그리고 어머니도 그런데 익숙하지 않기 때문이다. 이게 모두 우리의 문화, 습관, 풍습의 차이겠지.
하긴 나는 어머니를 얼싸안은 적도 없다. 지금이라면 어머니를 많이 Hugging하고 싶고, 또 “어머니 사랑해요”란 말은 또한 익숙지 않아서 못 하드래도, 오로지 지금까지 하지 못했고 그래도 하고 싶은 게 있다면, 어머니께 나를 기르시기에 얼마가 고생하셨느냐고 하고 어머니께 많이 고맙습니다하고 사례 드리고 싶다.

그러고 나니 내가 중학교 삼학년경에 영어교과서에서 읽었던 “My mother's last kiss" 생각이 났다.
물론 그 교과서책이 있을 리는 없지만 내가 감동했던 작품이 연상되어서 그 글을 찾으려고 했다. 오늘 날 Google Search에서 찾으면되겠기에 힘들어질 않고 발견하여 60여년만에 읽어보니 옛 생각이 생생히 떠 올랐을 뿐 아니라 너무나 감격적인 글이기에 여기에 올려서 여러분과 함께 좋은 독서시간을 갖고자, 요즘 표현을 쓰자면, 이곳에 퍼왔다.

어린 소년이 오랫동안 지병으로 앓던 어머니로부터 받았던 마지막 키스를 20년이 지난 후에도 생생히 기억한다는 슬프고 아름다운 글이었다. 너무나 좋은 글이기에 이곳에 옮겼다.

My mother's last kiss Mrs. E. Oakes Smith
 
Last Kiss by Pearl Jam

 

I was but five years old when my mother died; but her image is as fresh in my mind, now that twenty years have elapsed, as it was at the time of her death.
I remember her, as a pale, gentle being, with a sweet smile, and a voice soft and sweet when she praised me; and when I erred, (for I was a wild, thoughtless child,) there was a mild tender earnestness in her reproofs, that always went to my little heart.
Methinks I can see her large, blue eyes moist with sorrow because of my childish waywardness, and hear her repeat: "My child, how can you grieve me so?" She had, for a long time, been pale and feeble, and sometimes there would come a bright spot on her cheek, which made her look so lovely, I thought she must be well.
But then she spoke of dying, and pressed me to her bosom, and told me to be good when she was gone, and to love my father, and to be kind to him; for he would have no one else to love him.
I recollect she was ill all day, and my little hobby horse and whip were laid aside, and I tried to be quiet. I did not see her for a whole day, and it seemed very long.
At night, they told me my mother was too sick to kiss me, as she always had done before she went to bed, and I must go without it.
But I could not. I stole into the room, and placing my lips close to hers, whispered "Mother, dear mother, Won't you kiss me?"
Her lips were very cold, and when she put her hand upon my cheek, and laid my head on her bosom, I felt a cold shuddering pass all through me. My father carried me from the room, but he could not speak.
After they put me in bed, I lay a long while thinking; I feared my mother would, indeed, die; for her cheek felt cold, as my little sister's did as she died, and they carried her little body away where I never saw it again. But I soon fell asleep.
In the morning I rushed to my mother's room, with a strange dread of evil come upon me.
It was just as I feared. A white linen covered her straight, cold form. I removed it from her face; her eyes were closed, and her cheeks were cold and hard. But my mother's dear, dear smile was there, or my heart would have broken.
In an instant, all the little faults, for which she had so often reproved me, rushed upon my mind. I longed to tell her how good I would always be, if she would but stay with me. I longed to tell her how, in all time to come, her words would be a law to me. I would be all that she had wished me to be.
I was a passionate, headstrong boy; and never did this frame of temper come to me, but I seemed to see her mild, tearful eyes full upon me, just as she used to look in life; and when I strove for the mastery over my passions, her smile seemed to cheer my heart, and I was happy.
My whole character underwent a change, even from the moment of her death. Her spirit seemed to be always with me, to aid the good and root out the evil that was in me. I felt it would grieve her gentle spirit to see me err, and I could not, would not, do so.
I was a child of her affection. I knew she had prayed and wept over me; and that even on the threshold of her grave, her anxiety for my welfare had caused her spirit to linger, that she might pray once more for me. I never forgot my mother's last kiss. It was with me in sorrow; it was with me in joy; it was with me in moments of evil, like a perpetual good.

This story is the one I studied in the English Class during my middle school days, which moves me even now far more than it did at that time. It also makes me remember my dear late mother. I also prayed for her.