A game of firsts

Life is a game of firsts. First teeth. First words. First steps. But when all these new tricks become old hat, what of our existence then? I pondered this thought while sitting on the east porch one morning, sipping my hot coffee, heavy on the hazelnut. I thought what life must be like when we run out of firsts.

We are born, we live and we die. Many people describe life in those simple terms. But what about the time in between?

When children are small, the firsts come fast and frenzied. It seems we will never tire of taking those photos: First bottle, first bowel movement, first bright, gummy grin. First sucker, first swimsuit, first plate of spaghetti.

The same firsts for our subsequent offspring are seemingly overlooked, or are at least celebrated with less pomp and picture taking. Of course this doesn’t mean we love them any less, simply that we are human, and have learned to settle into ourselves and our routines and our lives as we know them.

But as with our children, when we age, the firsts become less frequent, or so we think. We, too, mastered the childhood benchmarks that acknowledged we were “normal”. We skipped through grade school and squeezed through adolescence and stepped apprehensively into the world of bills and bosses and being on our own. We married or stayed single, or maybe we did both, and we have finally come full circle with children of our own.

How easy it is to feel exhausted and overwhelmed with the task of shaping our children’s lives, forget trying to continue our own.

I’ve learned, however, that there’s always the opportunity to try something new. Like eating calamari or swimming with the dolphins. Or something as comfortable as giving a pedicure to my grandmother while my two-year old plays close by.

But the act is more than a simple gesture; it’s a lesson being taught and learned. As the child comes to stand by my side, I’m aware that he is watching and wondering and learning from such a small and effortless act. And feeling my heart open as he asks for some “wotion” to “rub on her owie so she can feel betta” and knowing that this is the start of sensitivity and compassion and kindness of heart. These are the firsts that I treasure.

My kids may not have a photo of every first black eye or scrape on the knee. They won’t remember their first Christmas or what they wore on their first Halloween. But what I hope they do remember when they are both grown are the opportunities that life has handed us to try new things or to make a difference in our world. Life is full of opportunities for firsts. Even if we’re not looking.

So while parasailing and scuba diving and exploring ancient ruins may be a thing of the past, for now, I’m content to keep my eyes open in search of the many unnoticed and unseen opportunities in our lives. For if we are looking, we can see that we will never run out of firsts to confront. But it’s what we do on these occasions-with this time in between-that is what makes all the difference.

And that’s All in a day’s work!