Inspiration: Write a list of firsts and how you felt about what happened (e.g., the first time you ate vegetables, your first job, your first overnight, your first house). Or, write about witnessing someone else’s first (e.g., your child’s first step). Of course, write about anything you wish today, just do a little writing, and, if you’d like, share it with us.
Firsts
My first night in my own room, I was lonely.
Having spent years sharing floor space, dressers, and mirrors,
I did not have to
elbow for space,
argue for possession, or
steal a glimpse — I missed my sisters.
My first time driving a stick shift car, I had whiplash.
Having spent years watching my Dad maneuver the clutch,
I realized
this definitely required practice
in a parking lot,
with a seat belt,
maybe even a helmet —I was so uncoordinated.
My first time riding a bike with no training wheels was on a salty, windy day in 1982. I was 5 years old and my mom’s boyfriend had arrived at my birthday party in Mission Bay to help hoist the pinata and transform my little-girl-bike into a big-girl-bike. I remember the day as grey and gloomy; June in Southern California is a little like February in Chicago- except warmer. I remember my bike was blue and my hair was white-blonde. My mom and her friend Candy were drinking pink wine out of paper cups. The rainbow tie-dyed wrap skirt my mom wore that day was one I would later borrow from her closet indefinitely as a preteen. The man who took my training wheels off had a sat and pepper beard and corduroy Ocean Pacific shorts. He had done this before with his own children. I was not afraid. He held the back of my seat and jogged next to me on my bicycle with a reassuring tone as he encouraged me forward. This is how the rest of our life together felt. Joe became my father. Never my step dad, although I would say that for my own father’s benefit. The man who took my training wheels off would comfort my tears through stints of self doubt and run ins with mean girls in elementary school, he would softly talk me through the angst and confusion I felt as we all left San Diego 7 years later to move to the Midwest. He supported me through all sorts of mishaps and rebellion in high school as I exploded and unraveled through my teenage years. He made sure I knew what a loving, respectful relationship looked like, so that as I matured I knew what to look for. It took some time, but I always knew what healthy love looked like due to his presence in my life. I never struggled as much with moments of transformation the way many of my friends did. I knew that training wheels or not, I had people to save me if I fell or got lost. To this day he is the most cherished man in my life and that has allowed me to love myself and to love others.