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Firsts
April 3, 2008She was the very picture of firstness: barely-contained excitement spilling into her features, words stumbling over each other in an effort to describe what will happen when she starts school come April 14. "I’ll bring my Strawberry Shortcake bag, and my lunchbox, and all my pencils."
"You should bring your notebook, too."
"Yes, and my phone so you can call me."
"You will have to wake up early so you won’t be late for school."
"Of course! But won’t Charlie miss me?"
I had to smile at that one. "Not yet. She’s inside mom’s tummy; she won’t even know you’re in school."
My daughter, at four, will soon learn one of life’s biggest lessons. No matter what happens between the today and someday, we never forget out firsts. There will always be something new, poignant, and shiny about firsts that time and a series of disappointments cannot crease or wrinkle. We pack them away in between carefully folded sheets of memories so that we can unwrap them in later years and think about each one with absolute clarity.
Today, I’m twenty-five. I’ve had so many firsts I sometimes forget where I’ve stashed them in my mind. Wouldn’t it be wonderful - wouldn’t it be just - to be seventy or eighty and finally have the time to sort through all of them with careful hands?
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